Paranormal Romance

“Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be. Whoever holds gypsy fire holds the key to riches beyond imagination. It is a powerful ally and a dangerous foe.”

That’s the family legend behind a mysterious coin owned by Riley Hathaway’s great-grandmother and left to her. But she felt the fire for attorney Patrick Spencer long before the coin sliced their fingers and mingled their blood. While her sisters fight for ownership of the coin and the riches they know it will bring, Riley learns its true wealth. Only Patrick can stoke true gypsy fire, and only he can quench it.

This is a cool story; one with passion, fire, and genuine emotions throughout. The situation the couple finds themselves in only fuels the fire between them and makes them enjoyable. A wonderful quick read that leaves you with some unexpected twists that will delight the reader. Another winner for Ms. Willows. ~Matilda, Coffee Time Romance

EXCERPT

Patrick Spencer watched Riley Hathaway battle the grief threatening to overwhelm her. Even with makeup, pale freckles stood out against her otherwise porcelain skin. Freckles…the curse of every redhead he’d ever known. Of the three he’d had to deal with in the last month, he was ready to throw two of them into the Pacific Ocean with lead boots. The third one? Well, it was hard to believe she was related to the other two. He would have done anything to spare her this pain.

He’d known Fiona Hathaway since he was a boy filing pocket parts in the California Code Annotated at his family’s law office. Who would’ve guessed he’d be the one to handle her estate now? She’d been old then at seventy-five. Now approaching one hundred, her time left was measured in hours. She’d outlived everyone in her family except her three great-granddaughters.

When it came right down to it, her active lifestyle was what had brought her down. One misstep as she rushed out the door a month before had sent Fiona tumbling off her front porch when she hit a spot weakened by termites. Riley had called the exterminators that very day to have the place inspected and fumigated. Fortunately, they caught the infestation at the beginning—only that one spot would need to be replaced.

Unfortunately, Fiona had hit her head and broken her hip on the flagstone walkway. At some point pneumonia had set in and refused to leave, despite the regime of antibiotics the doctor had placed her on. She’d been fighting hard but losing fast. Her periods of awareness had been few and she’d been barely coherent during them. Each breath more labored than the one before it.

When his grandfather and father had asked, Patrick didn’t hesitate to take the lead in seeing her affairs ran smoothly during this time. He’d helped Riley settle her at home with a visiting nurse so Fiona could pass in peace in her own bed as she’d wished, and he was at the house almost as much as Riley. Once he realized what opportunistic bitches Heather and Jillian were, Patrick made sure he was always there when Riley was not. No one was going to take advantage of Fiona. He remembered her laughing blue eyes, sharp wit, quick smile, and the peppermint pillow mints she always carried for “good little boys and girls.” Riley had all of those qualities too, right down to the mints in her purse.

Her sisters, however, were a piece of work. Even now they paced the corridors outside Fiona’s bedroom, waiting like vultures for the old girl to draw her last breath. Part of his job was to see they didn’t pick her apart afterward—or rather, her estate. Fiona’s instructions had been clear. He was here to help carry them out.

While Heather and Jillian were greatly inconvenienced by Fiona’s lengthy stay on earth, Riley was heart-sick over her inevitable demise. She spent as many hours as possible by her great-grandmother’s side, holding her hand, tracing the blue veins showing through Fiona’s paper-thin skin, talking and reading to her, kissing her wrinkled cheek, falling asleep in the chair beside her. He’d caught Fiona’s smile focused on Riley more than once. Just as quickly as it appeared, it would fade as her body pulled back inside itself.

Fiona’s eyelids fluttered open, scattering his thoughts. His breath caught in fear that this was her last moment. He wanted to wrap his arms around Riley and shield her from the pain. To bury his face in her thick, red hair while he dealt with his own grief at the passing of one hell of a woman. So far he’d fought the urge to touch Riley in more than a casual manner, trying to keep a professional distance out of respect for her and his family’s business. But Patrick was losing that battle, just as surely as Fiona was losing the one she waged. He wanted to kiss Riley, slow and sweet, easing his way in and then pulling her tight against a body that had been hard as a rock since the second they’d met. He wanted their naked flesh burning against each other’s, fire whirlpooling around as they touched, tasted…

“Hi, Gram,” Riley said softly.

Patrick snapped his thoughts into place. His perpetual erection wasn’t so easily tamed when it came to Riley. He ordered it to physically subside, then did his best to ignore the throbbing monster.

Riley combed her fingers through Fiona’s silver-white hair. She’d kept it brushed and neat for her. Fiona had always been meticulous about her appearance—a trait all her great-granddaughters inherited. Heather and Jillian might be bitches from hell, but they dressed to understated perfection, as Riley did—not too much, not too little, just right for whatever the occasion might be. On this late fall day, when Southern California could be extra warm or cold depending on the minute, that was a thin sweater with slacks for the older sisters, a skirt for Riley. A skirt he desperately wanted to get under.

“Sweetheart, you look so tired.” Fiona’s voice was breathy, hard for her to get out.

She slid her gaze from Riley to him. The sparkle in her blue eyes had dimmed. Patrick admitted not seeing that glint of life scared him.

“You too,” she told him.

Her thin hand shook as she reached for the pendant that rarely left her neck—a silver coin with a silver chain threaded through a hole drilled at the top. She grabbed the coin too tightly, cutting her finger on the thin edge.

“Gram, here, let me help.” Riley’s hand shook as much as Fiona’s. “What are you trying to do?”

“Give to you. Yours now.”

“Oh, Gram.” A tear slipped down her cheek. The pain of her loss—his loss too—knifed through Patrick’s heart.

“Take it,” Fiona told her.

Riley snatched up a tissue from the box on the bedside table and blotted the blood from Fiona’s hand. The injury looked no worse than a bad paper cut. Riley plucked up the necklace and gently turned it around until the clasp was at the front. Her hands still shook too much to unlatch it.

“Here. Let me.” Their fingers brushed in passing. Sensation like liquid warmth slithered up his arm.

He thought he caught the semblance of a smile on Fiona’s lips as he unhooked the clasp. Once it was free, he cupped the pendant in his palm and let the chain slither down on top of it. Blood remained from Fiona’s cut. He watched the small spot settle in his heart-line.

Fiona wrapped her thin fingers around his wrist. Her grip was feather-like. “You’re holding gypsy fire. Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be.” Her chuckle was swallowed by a coughing spell.

He and Riley tried to prop her up to clear her lungs. When the fit had passed, she sagged into the pillows. “Send those other two in here. I want to speak to them alone.”

“Fiona—”

“Alone, Patrick. Riley needs some fresh air. See she gets it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He offered a smile and plumped her pillows behind her while Riley smoothed the bedcovers in place. She added a kiss to Fiona’s cheek, blinked away a rush of tears, and let him lead her from the room.

Patrick liked how she fit beside him—the right height at his shoulder, the right pace with his, the right everything, whether she wore flats like now or heels. He’d taken to having that proprietary touch of his hand to her back when he escorted her through doors. She’d never so much as flinched. In fact, he’d swear there were times she leaned into his touch. That action always made him feel omnipotent, as if he could conquer the world.

Her rust-colored sweater was tucked into a matching shin-length skirt, and he couldn’t help wondering if her skin was as soft as the sweater. With every step they took, her skirt brushed against his leg, distracting him all the more. He watched the way her shoulder-length hair kissed her neck and longed to pull it away and do the same, letting his lips memorize every inch.

Her sisters pounced on them when they walked into the hallway. Their gloomy presence could dim a supernova. They dulled the light in this otherwise bright old house. In the month he’d known them, Patrick hadn’t heard Heather or Jillian utter a kind word about anyone…unless it was a man they were interested in impressing. Both had tried over-the-top flirtations with him on that first day—hookers were less bold—then moved on to other fishing grounds when they learned he wanted nothing to do with the bait they tossed out. It didn’t take a genius to see these women were always looking for the easiest way, felt the world owed them a favor, and were out to get anything and everything they could grab. These were not nice women, a fact that detracted from their hot-as-hell looks.

That’s what made it so difficult to believe they shared the same genes as Riley. The older two had already blown through two trust funds and an inheritance and now circled, waiting for more. Riley had gotten a business degree, opened her own craft store, and tucked the rest away for the children she planned to have one day. She took care of Fiona too, making sure she had whatever she needed.

“Gram wants to see you,” Riley told them.

When Heather darted past her to go inside, Riley grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop.

“Don’t upset her.”

Heather’s always-icy blue stare chilled a few more degrees. She didn’t bother with a response, just jerked free and swung open the door. Jillian hurried to catch up.

“That goes for you too,” Riley told her.

Her middle sister ignored her and shut the door in her face.

“Come on.” Hand at her back, Patrick turned her away. “Let’s walk around the garden.”

It gave him peace when he did so, and he was sure it did Riley, since he’d found her there on more than one occasion.

Riley glanced at the door over her shoulder, then placed her hand against his chest, right over his blue-striped tie. Could she feel the thump of his heart beneath it? Could she sense he wanted her hand lower, pressed against yet another erection, just as she pressed against the silk tie? On impulse, he wrapped his fingers around hers and squeezed.

“I need…” She paused, lips parted. She focused on his mouth, then shifted her gaze to their locked hands. He realized he still had Fiona’s necklace in his palm.

“I believe this is intended for you.” Patrick folded the pendant into her hand.

Smiling, Riley closed her fingers around it. “I never thought I’d see the day it came off her neck permanently. She would’ve raised holy hell if she found out the staff had removed it at the hospital when she was admitted. Fortunately, I was able to retrieve it before she regained…” She gave a light laugh. “I guess I can’t say she’s ever fully regained her senses.”

Patrick touched the silver chain that dangled from her hand. “She was aware enough to know it was still around her neck. Imagine her upset if she’d found it gone.”

That brightened her smile. “True.” She rubbed the thin coin between her fingers.

“It was as much a part of her as the peppermints she carried in her purse. When I was a kid, I asked her if it was pirate treasure. She said…” He laughed lightly at the memory. She’d said then what she’d told them minutes before.

“It’s gypsy fire. Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be. Never forget that, young Patrick.”

Riley held the silver up between them. Age had worn the impressions on it to bare visibility and made it blade-thin. “Gypsy fire. That’s what she always called it.”

“I remember.” Patrick touched the surface next to her thumb. “It’s very old.”

“Centuries…if you believe the tale.”

“I don’t think I ever heard that one.”

Though Fiona had spun other stories for him when he visited the law office. She knew how to capture a child’s imagination. Even at the ripe “old age” of thirty-two Patrick still liked to hear them.

Riley’s eyes held some of the mischief he’d seen in Fiona’s. “Ages ago a necklace was forged over a campfire by a gypsy man for his gypsy love—”

“Over a gypsy fire.”

Riley giggled. “Exactly…and don’t forget this was in days of yore.”

He gave her a nod. “Of course. Continue, please.”

“He forged each coin from the finest silver, infused it with love. The hole in this one was drilled by his hand when he drilled the others to link. No one knows how many coins the necklace held, but it’s believed to have been a small fortune. On the night he was to give it to her, he found her ravished by another. He used the necklace as a garrote and strangled the man. It broke, scattering coins everywhere.

“Our lovestruck couple gathered as many as they could find and fled from the kingdom, for to stay meant certain death for one and banishment for the other. No one knows what became of them. Some say they lived happily ever after. Some say evil was attached to the coins once the man was killed. The coins are still found every so often, part of the gypsy fire, for there were so many on the necklace, the couple couldn’t take them all. One thing everyone does agree on is—”

“Once you’ve been kissed by gypsy fire, there’s no turning back. The quicker one accepts their fate, the happier they’ll be.”

“Yes. Gram always told us too, that whoever holds gypsy fire holds the key to riches beyond imagination. It is a powerful ally and a dangerous foe. Choose wisely.” She laughed. “Rather like in an Indiana Jones movie.”

This was the happiest he’d seen her since they’d met a month before. Damn, he wanted to kiss her. Those bright blue eyes so filled with life looked into his right then. Patrick couldn’t breathe, much less think straight. Their fingers were still locked around the coin. Bound, some part of his mind said. Her lips parted—soft, inviting.

Time slowed as he bent toward her. He felt her breath become part of his. He was hot. Gypsy fire.

Their lips touched, froze together. A sigh settled them into the tender caress. Then, in unison, their tongues reached out, became one. The kiss deepened. His mind folded in on itself. He felt the touch of her chest to his, then her pelvis. But the coin locked them as one, not their arms. He deepened the kiss but it was Riley who demanded it of him. He wanted to feel her flesh, the heat of it, the silk of it, inside and out.

“Where the hell is it?” Heather demanded. She zeroed in on the coin clasped between their fingers. “Give me that. I’m the oldest. It’s rightfully mine.”

She snatched it away before they could stop her. The edges sliced through Patrick’s fingers like a razor. Riley’s gasp mirrored his. She’d been cut as well. He caught her hand and pressed his wounded fingers over hers while he glared at Heather.

“Fiona gave it to Riley,” he told her.

“Don’t.” Riley lifted her uninjured hand. “It’s not worth fighting over. All that matters is Gram. I have all I could possibly want or need.”

ANOTHER CHANCE, ANOTHER TIME
by Catherine Snodgrass
Paranormal Romance (Reincarnation)
December 2002

He has spent an eternity trying to protect and provide for the love of his life. Each time he has failed…miserably. Now fate has given them another chance. Will Alec Edwards and Dani Morgan learn from the mistakes of their past or repeat them all over again?

FALLEN ANGEL RECOMMENDED READ! FIVE ANGELS! …a bitter-sweet romance about love and reincarnation. …a story that is just captivating. …very thought provoking and I enjoyed that with this book. The story stays with you, long after you’ve finished the book. ~Jaymi, Fallen Angel Reviews

FOUR CUPS!!! [A] well written, twisting tale of love lost and gained throughout the ages. ~Charissa, Coffee Time Romance

[A]n engrossing and thoroughly enjoyable story that challenges traditional beliefs and brings rise to the question of life, love, and hatred after death. Whether our lives are predestined to travel the paths that have been tread before, or whether we choose our own path, is a wonderful journey that this book takes us on. With a romance and passion that spans even time itself, I found every minute and every twist and turn of this unexpected plot a great read! ~Cassidy, Joyfully Reviewed

A romantic and suspenseful tale that will have you asking if reincarnation is possible. A fast read that reels you in, a story that keeps you turning the pages. A classic plot with several new twists. A fine book with which to pass away the nice spring-like days. ~Diana Risso, Romance Reviews Today.

FOUR STARS!!! A cleverly written reincarnation romance with an absorbing mystery. Readers will be enthralled as the story unfolds along tightly written prose. ~Susan Mobley, Romantic Times.

Truly a seamless plot with believable characters and enough suspense, danger and romance to keep the reader interested until the very end. ~Moni Draper, PNR Reviews

An Intriguing Tale of Mystery and Fate. Ms. Snodgrass does a wonderful job of pulling together the mystery, suspense, and romance as Alec and Dani fight to break the tragic pattern of the past and the dreadful fate that awaits them should they fail to discover the killer’s identity in time. This tale is complex, full of ironic twists, and a villain is so crafty that the reader will be stunned at the lengths he or she will go to get Dani out of the way. With enough red herrings thrown in, I doubt if anyone will realize the killer’s identity until it is revealed. Indeed this gripping plot will keep the reader on the edge of their seat until the last word is read. ~Leslie Tramposch, PNR Reviews

ANOTHER CHANCE, ANOTHER TIME is a complex reincarnation romance that sub-genre fans will fully enjoy as the delightful lead couple research their past (via hypnosis), confront their present, and pray for their future together. Though the flashbacks are cleverly interwoven into he plot to give substance to the eerie multiple life, some readers might find that disruptive. Still with a powerful story line starring two giving individuals (past and present), the paranormal audience will want to read this tale and seek future works by Catherine Snodgrass. ~Harriet Klausner

A heart warming read about two loves who have just never gotten it quite right. Alec and Dani`s love for each other is so powerfully portrayed that reaches out and tugs at the reader`s heart strings. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel that was full of witty characters, paranormal events, and a really great bad guy that you love to hate. If you like time travel, paranormal, or just a really great romance then read this book! ~Jen, A Romance Review

Lots of romance and some suspense to make a thought-provoking story from the pen of Catherine Snodgrass.~Marilyn Heyman, The Road to Romance

Another Chance, Another Time was an exceptionally well- written book. The language was rich, the characters interesting and instantly compelling, the plotline beautifully thought out. The notion of a pair of lovers, who repetitively come together, with a secret nemesis that forever interferes, has never been done better. This is the first of Ms. Snodgrass’s books that I’ve read, and I’m now a complete fan. She is a wonderful writer.~Janet Miller, PNR Reviews

FIVE HEARTS!!! This is a wonderful book about reincarnation, about lovers who are destined to live again and again until they can get it right and get together. It takes that feeling that we get when we meet someone the first time, but feel like we have known them forever and gives us a reason why that is possible – a remembrance of a relationship we’ve had before. I very much recommend this book as it has everything you could want – love, sex, suspense. Lisa Wine, The Romance Studio

EXCERPT

Alec Edwards stared into the blinding rain. Traffic crawled along Interstate 10. Typical Los Angeles traffic. At this rate he’d never make it to the fund-raising dinner, and that was fine with him. As Alec left the hospital that evening, Walt Rushmore let it slip that his daughter Andrea would be joining them.

Somehow Alec managed to keep from wincing. The Rushmores were playing matchmaker. As far as Alec was concerned, it would be a match made in hell. An abortive relationship with Andrea four months ago proved that. For some reason, the Rushmores and Andrea couldn’t understand Alec just wasn’t interested. Tonight was going to be pure agony. The weather seemed to agree.

Traffic slowed, cars wedged bumper to bumper, horns blared from all directions to no avail—nothing was going to move this traffic along. They were stuck here for God knew how long.

Alec smiled. Maybe there was justice in the world after all. The hospital already had his money for the benefit tonight and now he wouldn’t have to bear Andrea’s company.

As he thought that, the crawl of cars ground to a halt. Headlights from on-coming cars zoomed by and bathed him in eerie yellow light. They moved a little too quickly for Alec’s comfort. He blessed the concrete divider that stood between him and the eastbound lane. Still, his gaze remained riveted to those mesmerizing lights.

Through a sheet of rain, Alec watched in horror as a car broke free from those coming in the opposite direction. It careened off the center divider and sailed through the air.

Alec snapped open his seat belt and dove for the passenger side.

It was silent except for the beating rain, and then came the explosion of metal and glass.

When silence descended once more, Alec eased up, looking for damage. He was safe. The car behind him was a shambles. He shoved his shoulder into the door and sprinted to the wreckage.

Others did the same. A patrolman from the eastbound lane squealed to a stop, leaped the divider, and ran forward.

“There’s a medical bag in my car! Get it!” Alec pointed to his car.

Relief washed over the young officer’s face.

Alec stared at the tangled heap of vehicles and wondered if there was any hope someone was still alive. The first car, a beat up Colt, had plowed headlong into the windshield of the second, a late model Cougar.

Crawling up, he wrenched open the door on the Colt. The stench of liquor took his breath away. A pair of gaping, vacant eyes stared back at him. Nevertheless, Alec felt for the man’s pulse. Nothing.

He jumped down, expecting the same from the Cougar. The door groaned in protest as he forced it open. A woman was behind the wheel, her face, neck, and chest sliced by shards of metal and glass. The Colt’s bumper had missed decapitating her by mere inches. He gingerly felt for a pulse and then sighed in relief. She was still alive.

Her eyes fluttered open and focused on him. There was a catch in her breath, an awareness in those deep brown eyes of hers. She grappled for his hand and then curled her bloodied fingers around it.

“It’s…you.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. “God, how I have missed you.” She braced her cheek against the seat and drifted off, a touch of a smile on her lips.

Alec stared at her hand still nestled in his. Warmth radiated up his arm until his body was engulfed. Not even the chilling rain could diminish the heat pulsing through him. Who was she? He racked his brain trying to place her. They had never met, had they?

“Here’s your bag.” The policeman set the black satchel near the open door.

Alec turned to thank him. Shock paralyzed the other man.

“She’s going to make it.” His tone warned the officer to say nothing to the contrary.

Finally, the man forced himself to nod. “And the other one?”

“He’s already gone.”

The officer glanced around. “The paramedics are on the way, but with this rain and traffic it might take a while.”

“Some butterfly kisses will hold her in place until—”

“Kisses?”

Alec blinked. Where was his head? “Sorry, I meant stitches.” When he tried to extricate his hand, her hold tightened. He leaned closer, cupping his free hand over both of theirs. “It’s all right. I need to help you. I’m right here. I won’t leave.”

“Yes, you will. You are never there when I need you most.” A sigh heaved her chest and her hand slipped free.

“Not this time.” Alec had no idea who she thought he was, but he knew whoever it was, she had to have faith that person would help. It was up to him.

He decided against paper stitches and used gauze instead to bind her injuries until he could get her to a hospital. At this point with all the blood, it was hard to tell the extent of her wounds. Around him he was conscious of the officer directing traffic and the pounding rain, but that was all. Every sense was focused on the woman before him. It was only the two of them, as if the world spinning around them had ceased to exist.

Each time he recalled those brown eyes upon him, Alec shivered. She knew him, trusted him. And he would swear he had never met her in his life. Now he was her lifeline, and although Alec had never been one to assign himself god-like qualities, he knew in his heart he was the only person who could save her now.

Another patrol car pulled up. Minutes later, the officer sidled up to him.

“How is she?”

“Fine. She’s going to be just fine.”

“Paramedics are almost here.” He ducked away.

Alec bent over his patient once more to examine his handiwork. He smoothed back her blood-matted brown hair and felt a bump just above her forehead. A possible concussion was added to the list of injuries. That would explain her confusion when she saw him and her unconsciousness now. There was little more he could do for now.

Reaching over to the other seat, he snagged her purse. Her driver’s license listed her as Danielle Morgan, age thirty, height five-three, weight one-twenty. She was smiling. Her hair brushed her shoulders in a feather-like embrace. A pink dot on the license indicated she was an organ donor.

Alec gritted his teeth. He refused to allow it to come to that. He shifted through the contents of her purse once more and found a passport where another bright smile shined from her photograph. A plane ticket with itinerary was nestled inside the passport. Alec took a peek and didn’t know whether to smile or cry for her.

She had been on her way to LAX to catch a flight to Europe. That would be his vacation of choice. Trouble was, he had never taken the time to do it, and never found anyone he wanted to go with. Whoever was waiting for her at the airport was probably frantic.

He waved one of the officers over and shoved the ticket into his hand. “Better call the airline and let them know what happened. They can notify anyone waiting for her there. Any word on that rescue unit?”

“They’re about a mile away. I can see the lights from here.”

Alec looked in the direction he pointed. Flashing red lights wove along the median toward them. He squatted down and picked up the woman’s limp hand. This time, she didn’t stir. Her pulse was thready. They were running out of time.

Everything was in place by the time the ambulance reached the emergency room doors. The hospital staff wheeled Dani Morgan away to prep her for surgery, X-ray for broken bones, and run necessary blood work. Then it would be up to Alec, and he was going to be good to no one unless he calmed down.

He stopped long enough to slug down a cup of water, before marching off to scrub up. Dr. Kevin Samuels was already there, stripping from his street clothes into surgical scrubs. The rain tightened his red hair to clumps of curls. His blue eyes danced with mischief when he saw Alec.

“If I’d known this was a formal occasion, I would have dressed in something better than jeans.”

Normally Alec would have come back with a jibe of his own. Tonight he just wasn’t in the mood. He threw his damp suit into a wad at the bottom of the locker. Kevin had the good sense to let it go.

“I was on my way home when you arrived. Thought I’d stay and help.” He jerked his head toward the operating room. “She’s a mess. Damn fine thing you were there. I understand it was over an hour before the paramedics could get to the scene.”

An hour? Had they really been there that long?

“The other driver died on impact. Frankly, I was surprised to find her still alive. You know, she was on her way to the airport. Going to Europe.”

Kevin looked up. “So she was conscious during all this.”

Alex slipped his blue scrubs on. “No. I was searching for identification and found the tickets.”

“So she never spoke at all.”

He straightened. Two strides took him to the sink. “I never said that either.”

Kevin was on his heels and nearly bumped into him when Alec started to scrub up.

“What did she say?”

“What does it matter?”

He shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t if she didn’t say anything about any medical conditions.”

Alec drew in air to steady his nerves. “She didn’t. She just mistook me for someone else.”

“Is that what has you rattled?”

Yes. That was it. The whole thing spooked him. Dani Morgan hadn’t just thought he was someone else, but she knew him, and Alec couldn’t for the life of himself understand how.

“I guess so.”

Kevin’s gaze was sharp, appraising. “Are you going to be all right to do this?”

He had to be. She was depending on him. By some instinct he couldn’t explain, he had to help her. He was the only one who could save her.

“I’m fine. Let’s do it.”

Together they pushed into the operating room. Dani looked pale next to the white sheets that draped her. Shock and blood loss had taken their toll. The rest of the team surrounded her. The anesthesiologist was at her head.

“Is she out?” Alec studied her face, deciding where to start first.

“Almost.”

“Let me know when, Joe. Anything else?”

“No broken bones, Dr. Edwards,” the nurse said. “No Hepatitis. No drugs or alcohol in her blood. But there are more lacerations on her torso.”

“Then we’ll start there.” Alec lifted the sheet and blanched. A deep gash followed the curve of her right breast. He tried not to reprimand himself. Because of the position of the other vehicle, there had been no way to check for other injuries.

That’s no excuse, logic argued. You should have checked her again in the ambulance.

“Ready, Doc.”

“Thanks, Joe. Okay, people. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Dani Morgan felt herself slip further into that dark place in her mind. She was aware of where she was, what had happened, and that she was very badly hurt. None of that mattered. They couldn’t put her under. They just couldn’t. No one understood what it would mean.

She had gone there once before when she had her tonsils out as a child. It had terrified her ever since, yet she could speak of it to no one. Now she had to. But the words wouldn’t come. Dani couldn’t make them understand.

And slowly she went back to that place. That place where she had died.

Natalie Gray has lived in a corner of Doug Carlyle’s soul since the day they met. She’s his light in a dark world, the good that cuts through the evil his mind too often sees. She’s his anchor, his heart, his future. The world and all its horrors can wait. This is the time for them. He wasn’t anticipating someone else had a different agenda. He won’t be caught unaware again. Natalie’s become a part of his mind. Now he has to shut her out to save their lives. That alone is a tricky balance that could cost him the love he holds so dear.

5 STARS! This new offering from Caitlyn Willows is unlike anything I’ve ever read from her. While reading her work is usually a guaranteed substitute for foreplay, this dramatic story of suspense and intrigue left me feeling nauseous from the tension at times as well as breathless with the passion at others. I loved Doug for wanting to get to know Natalie, to woo and court her before he fell into the sack with her even though he knew from the beginning how she felt about him. I loved him even more when he read in Natalie’s mind that she’d come to protect him and he felt humble gratitude. I could identify with Natalie’s belief that she was best for the job because, to save someone she loves, she would fight harder than anyone else. She wouldn’t give up before there was no breath left in her body. I was also thrilled that when I thought I had everything figured out, there was another twist that surprised me. With the building sexual tension and the wonderfully escalating danger, by the end I felt my emotions had been manipulated by a master. Don’t miss A Corner of My Soul. ~ Karen Haas, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

FOUR ANGELS! [A]n exciting, erotic adventure from beginning to end. Doug and Natalie have great chemistry and are both delightful, intriguing characters that were fun to get to know and easy to like. I really enjoy Ms. Willows’ smooth, comfortable writing style and the heat she adds to every story. A Corner of My Soul is a fast-paced romp with sensual, sexy encounters that are sure to excite and delight readers. ~Tammy, Fallen Angel Reviews

FOUR HEARTS! The climax is chilling and satisfying. [A] spooky and engrossing novella. ~Lynn Bushey, The Romance Studio

Excerpt:

Doug Carlyle reeled his fishing line across the water, hoping to entice a bluegill into grabbing the fly. It was all about patience. He’d learned that from the cradle up, right here at the family cabin every summer. The lesson had served him well in life, so had the hours perched on his dad’s knee—or grandfather’s or uncle’s. When work was especially tough, Doug wrapped himself in the love of his family, if only in his mind. Here on the lip of this beautiful freshwater lake, he could recharge from the horrors work thrust his way. Sunlight glinted off the blue-green surface like a million stars at night. The breeze sifted through the towering trees and calmed his soul.

It was especially nice to be here when summer heat melted a person to nothing in the city and all the crazies came out. Although, with late afternoon thunderstorms starting to move into the mountains, it might wind up being colder than Doug preferred. If the rain got too bad, he’d not only be stuck inside the cabin, he’d be stranded when the roads washed out. Just him and the thoughts and voices of others that crept into his mind.

He sighed and cast his line again. He had books, beer, supplies, blankets, and extra jackets in the closet if the walls closed in and he needed to walk it off. He’d manage. He always did.

Doug couldn’t remember when he’d realized he was different from other children. In his family his ability was a given. Doug was glad for that. They had the “sight,” as his grandmother called it. They’d shown him how to use it wisely, how to deal with some of the things he saw that weren’t so nice, how to protect himself. Still, no one was happy when he’d decided to go into profiling. The discipline involved with that work helped him hone his gift and have it mean something.

The family respected his need to make a difference, but they worried. He’d seen it in their minds. They helped him stay grounded despite their concerns, giving him distance when he needed, wrapping him in love when he needed that too. Without that he risked overload. It had happened to his older cousin with near lethal results—another reason the family didn’t want Doug involved in police work of any kind. At that point it was a little too late. Doug had made the commitment and wouldn’t back away from it. He monitored himself daily, sometimes hourly, to keep in check and notice the internal signals telling him it was time to clear his head of the garbage collected from other people.

So he lounged in one of the two Adirondack chairs on the dock built by his maternal grandfather, cold beer and bottled water in a cooler by his side. The cabin, with the wooden steps Doug and his father had built the year before were a mere stone’s throw away. The motorboat tied next to him bobbed as if begging to be taken out for a spin. His family had left the day before, giving Doug a few days to cleanse his mind before heading back to work. He missed them, but he also treasured this quiet time. No one’s thoughts to intrude on his. No having to put up his blocks. At least no one in his general vicinity.

People occasionally occupied other cabins dotting the lakeshore. The closest at the moment was at the farthest end a mile down, and Doug could tune the honeymooners out. It wasn’t easy when their passion poured his way. With his family gone and without the distraction they’d provided, sexuality from the couple seeped into Doug’s head, adding to the agony of being away from the woman of his dreams. He felt like a voyeur beating off each time to give himself relief, imagining himself sliding into Natalie Gray while he did so.

Oh, well…what they don’t know…

Smiling, he cast his line again. That’s when he felt the presence of another drift into his head, and not just any other person. Natalie was driving up the road.

He parked his fishing rod in the bracket and stretched to his feet to face the arrival. Nothing the honeymooners could project would equal the feeling of seeing Natalie pull her Ford Escape to a stop before the cabin, right behind his Jeep Cherokee. She’d lived in a corner of his soul from the first time they’d met the previous year. At the time they’d both been involved with other people. He’d known the instant he’d seen her that she was the one…and he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it, except be patient and wait until the time was right.

He’d ended his own relationship right away. Doug couldn’t continue being with Bette when he knew she was out there. It wasn’t fair. He liked Bette too much to use her. Two months later, Bette met the love of her life. Now they were married with a baby on the way. It hadn’t take long for Natalie to be single once more either. Still he waited for that perfect moment, wanting her more than anything else, yet content to get to know each other better.

He’d felt a nudge from the universe that last time they’d had coffee. It wasn’t the most opportune time since he was leaving for the cabin within hours. Once she was finally in his arms, Doug knew he’d never want to let her go. All he could do was sow a seed for when he returned—a subtle touch up her arm, along with a promise to see her when he got back. The warmth that had pulsed from her when he’d done so had made it doubly hard to leave. He’d missed her like crazy every day since, took her image with him to bed each night in the crowded cabin. No wonder he’d caved so quickly from the honeymooners. Now Natalie was here, firing up his libido, wiggling into his heart all the more.

Doug opened his mind and probed hers. She was here on business, but he also felt joy overlaid on the dark news she had to deliver. Happiness rippled through her when she waved and flashed him a smile. He waved and smiled back, heartbeat racing in time with hers. His erection rivaled the size of the pine trees around them. He shoved the tips of his fingers in his jeans pocket and watched her pick her way down the wooden steps toward him, wanting her more with every inch that brought her closer.

She’d gone casual for her visit wearing jeans, sneakers, and a dark green T-shirt that came a hair shy of clinging to her torso. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail that dangled to her shoulders. Sunlight filtering through the treetops and dark clouds glinted off the red highlights. When left loose, her hair shone like treasure. Doug knew it would feel like thick strands of silk running through his fingers. He wanted to drown in the smell of her, that combination of scents unique to Natalie alone.

“I should have known better than to try to sneak up on you.”

Who needed the sun when there was a smile like that beaming on him?

“When did you know I was here?”

Doug shrugged. “Probably when you turned down the road. It’s hard to tell. I was fishing, pondering the lint in my navel, and wondering when the newlyweds on the other side of the lake were going to go at it again.”

Natalie laughed. “Hard life.”

He grinned. “Very hard when they’re hot and heavy.” And I want you so bad I can taste it.

She’d reached the bottom step. Her brown eyes sparkled with humor. She was genuinely glad to see him, despite her original reason for seeking him out. Doug wanted to delay that discussion as long as possible.

“It was a long drive for you. Would you like a beer or a bottle of water?” He reached for the small cooler between the chairs, already knowing her selection.

“Sure.” Obviously she knew he knew. Doug liked that. Natalie had always accepted him for what he was. Not once had she questioned anything.

Her long fingers brushed his as she took the water. A tingle zipped up his arm and he felt the jolt of impact in her head. Perhaps putting up some walls would be polite.

“I would have called, but someone’s cell phone seems to be off.” Natalie twisted the cap off and took a long drink.

Doug’s gaze locked onto the slender column of her neck as she swallowed. The image of her lips wrapped his cock, sucking him down doubled his agony. “What can I say?” He shrugged a shoulder and motioned her to one of the chairs. “Spotty service. Forgot to bring the charger. I’m on vacation.”

“The dog ate my homework. The sun was in my eyes. My shoelace was untied.” Natalie eased into the low-slung chair with a contented sigh. “God, it’s beautiful up here. I haven’t been to the mountains in ages. I could fall asleep right here, right now.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you in an hour…if the storm doesn’t open up first.”

They eyed the darkening sky.

“It looks like the clouds might win that race.”

“You realize if it starts to rain we’ll be stuck here for a bit. You don’t want to be on those roads in a storm. Flash floods, mudslides…”

Natalie took another sip of water and stared at the lake, now turned gray-green and choppy from the approaching storm. “I can think of worse fates than being stuck in a mountain cabin with you.”

Doug grinned like he’d hit the jackpot. As a matter of fact, maybe he had.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Your pole’s bent.”

Thinking of the erection swelling his jeans, Doug started to glance down.

She snickered. “Your fishing pole.”

Doug laughed at himself. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” She winked and polished off the water.

“You caught me.” He pulled the rod from its brace and reeled in a bluegill. “Looks like you’re my good luck charm. This is my first bite since I’ve been here.”

“Always happy to help.”

“Stay the night, and I’ll be happy to cook you dinner as your reward.”

Natalie eyed the sky, then cast him another sidelong glance. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Great.” He unhooked the fish and placed it in the second cooler of ice. As much as Doug wanted her, there was that nasty business that had brought her here. “Now that we’ve had foreplay, want to tell me why you’re really here?”

All trace of humor faded. Doug was damn glad he’d put his walls up. He didn’t want to see the darkness in her mind. She was going to share it soon enough.

Natalie closed her eyes, rested her head against the back of the chair, and folded her fingers over her stomach. “Give me a bit. I’d like to soak up a few more minutes of peace.”

“Take as long as you need.” Doug tossed out his line. Anything to keep the world’s darkness at bay. Anything to keep her with him as long as possible.

ACROSS A SEA OF STARS
by Caitlyn Willows
Sci-Fi/Fantasy Romance
June 2016
Cover Art by Trace Edward Zaber

A night of debauchery has made Kes realize how much he’s wasted his life. Fate delivers him a chance to turn things around. All he has to do is retrieve a stolen Planet Skipper and deliver the culprits responsible for its theft. Once the task is accomplished, his entry into the Interplanetary Commission is guaranteed. But the Universe has another plan—Anne Sherwood.

Anne has always believed that everything happens for a reason. She prides herself on being open-minded. A world of possibility and wonder lay open to those who were willing to accept. But even she has her doubts when she learns the hot-as-heck man she’s spent the night with reveals he’s from another planet.

Through Kes, Anne discovers a power of her own she’d never imagined—the ability to control energy. It’s a power that’s growing by the minute. A power that could get out of control if she allowed it to do so. Now someone from Kes’s past is aware of it, too. And he wants it for himself.

“Five Shooting Stars! When a jaded space traveler meets a starry eye romantic they get a beautiful love story. I loved Across the Sea of Stars by Caitlyn Willows. It is a great love story that made me smile and really have a lot of aww moments too. Plenty of heat between the characters too to keep me reading.Kestral he is tired of one night stands that mean nothing. He wants his life to have more meaning than that. He blocks out his fears and disappointments in life by having sex with random strangers. He has one last chance to prove he can follow his dreams. He is going to change his life and take that chance. He knows this is it for him all or nothing and he is willing to gamble it all to win.Anne she is from Earth. She is upbeat, optimistic, dreamer. She sees a shooting star she loves watching the night sky. When she is attacked in the parking lot by a group of drunk men, Kestral saves her.They hit it off right from the start. But Kestral wonders if Anne can handle who he really is and will pursuing her cost him his dream job or not.Over all this is one sweet story I couldn’t stop reading. I will have this one on my keeper shelf.” – Redz World Reviews.

EXCERPT

Anne Sherwood sorted her tips by denomination. Two hundred dollars! A great night! But then, paydays for the military community normally were. She stuffed the wad of money deep into her big black leather tote and smiled up at her coworker.

“Ready to call it a night, Peggy?”

“I’ll say.” She tucked a strand of her platinum blonde hair back into place in its braid. “My feet are killing me.”

“They did keep us running tonight. But it was a good night.”

“Little Miss Mary Sunshine as always.” Peggy laughed lightly. “I swear, if a customer left you a quarter, you’d still think it was a good night. You even dealt with that problem table wearing a smile.”

Anne couldn’t help it. It was so much easier being happy than sad. If a person looked hard enough, they could always find something good in a situation.

She steered Peggy toward the door. “You need to get home to that man of yours. That’ll put a smile on your face.”

Peggy glowed with anticipation. “Your plans?”

“I’m off for groceries, then home to my menagerie.” She swung open the glass door and stepped into the late summer night.

“Damn it to hell,” Peggy muttered. “The streetlight’s out again. Find some good in that.”

A flash across the sky caught Anne’s eye. “Look.” She jerked her hand toward the disintegrating meteorite. “A shooting star.”

Peggy merely shrugged. “Is there a night when you don’t see one?”

Eyes wide, Anne scanned the heavens for more. “Hardly. I love watching them, wondering where they came from, how old they are. There’s going to be one heck of a shower tonight. Are you going to stay up to watch?”

“At one in the morning? Are you crazy?”

Anne glanced at her friend. Peggy’s eyebrows had shot up to her hairline, or close to it.

“Life’s too short to spend it sleeping. This is an event.”

“Yes, and it happens every year. So what’s the big deal?”

“It’s…celestial.”

The awe with which she’d said the word earned Peggy’s laughter. “Yes, and magic, too. Like the comets.” Peggy tossed a hug around her shoulders. “See you Tuesday. Enjoy your weekend. We’re spending ours in Vegas.” She walked on to the parking lot.

“Enjoy.” Anne lifted her hand in a wave the other woman didn’t see, while she scanned the sky again. Two more meteorites shot across a star-kissed field of black. It was going to be a spectacular show later on. She couldn’t wait.

“Well, well, well. Look what we got here.”

The deep voice drifted to Anne from the shadows of the building. Three men stepped from the inky depths. Fear crawled through her body. She shot her gaze to the parking lot. Peggy was already gone. If Anne hurried, she might be able to make the safety of the restaurant. Two deputy sheriffs were finishing up dinner inside.

As if anticipating her move, the men surrounded her, chortling with glee. They were the problem table she’d dealt with earlier. They’d been drunk then and were worse now. She ticked off identifying characteristics—white males, slender, early twenties, baggy jeans and sports jerseys, black knit caps.

“It’s our cheery little waitress,” one said.

“Wonder how friendly she really is,” said another.

“Come on, sweet thang.” The man in front of her gestured toward her tote. “We could use a little sumpin, sumpin. Gonna give it up without a fight?”

Anne sucked in a breath, ready to scream her lungs out. A big hand clamped over her mouth from behind. The man reeked of french fries, stale beer, and cigarettes. He clamped his arm around her waist, while his friend tried to peel her fingers away from the purse straps.

“Yeah, fight, baby. That’s the way I likes it. Fight it hard.”

A green glow lit them like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Anne clicked her gaze skyward. A meteorite zoomed low overhead, shooting green flames as it traveled from east to west. It was a truly phenomenal event.

The hand over her mouth loosened. Anne saw her chance. Pulling power from deep within her gut, she prepared to unleash a blood-curdling scream.

“I think you’d better let the lady go.” Another man stepped into their circle. His voice was low, firm, and music to her ears. Help was here. Judging from his stance, he wasn’t going to put up with any shit.

Anne watched the green ball slowly disappear over the horizon. Its remnants highlighted the gold and red in the man’s tousled brown hair. He wore light-colored khakis and a pullover shirt she swore matched the fading meteorite.

“Yeah? And who’s gonna make us?”

Anne saw the flash of metal.

“He’s got a knife!”

They charged him as one. The man crouched low and snapped out his palms. With a muttered oof, two were hurled against the brick wall. Gasps for breath followed. Her savior whipped a fist around to their partner.

Anne had to blink twice. She swore she saw light pulse as he made contact. The mugger tumbled backward, hitting the ground hard. Eyes wide, he scrambled to his feet and took off. His friends wasted no time following. Anne listened to their footsteps beating a path to safety.

“Are you all right, miss?”

Long fingers curled around her upper arm. What she could only describe as energy coursed through her, lifting every baby-fine hair she possessed. Deep brown eyes studied her. His eyebrows tugged together as he waited for her response.

Anne was mesmerized by his sharp, angled features—the long, straight nose, the squared jaw, the hint of shadow carved just under his cheekbones, his full lips. What was his smile like? Were his teeth white and perfect? She wanted to stretch to her toes and kiss him, to wrap her arms around his waist and nestle her head against his broad chest. His touch, his nearness made her feel safe, protected. Desire overwhelmed her. Nothing was a more powerful aphrodisiac than heroics. But this felt like so much more than about sex. Yes, his nearness made her thrum, but there was safety and calmness that said things she’d never imagined. Things she’d believed existed only in stories. Trust, love, forever. Words like the one, love at first sight, and happily ever after danced on the edges of her mind.

“I’m fine, thanks to you,” she finally managed to say.

“Fortunately, I just happened to be in the area.”

He caressed his thumb over her arm in slow circles. Anne’s blood thrummed with each round. She imagined the calloused digit on her nipple, flicking it back and forth until it was hard. Then he’d wrap his full lips around it. His breath would be hot, his tongue wet, his touch…

“We should probably call the police.” He dropped his arm, breaking the sensual spell, but not the connection she felt.

Anne hugged herself against the sensations and tried to focus on the attack. Nothing was stolen, she wasn’t hurt, and they were long gone by now, so why bother? Her conscience intruded. If they did this once, they’d do it again. She had to notify the deputy sheriffs.

She glanced at her watch. What about her groceries? It was getting late. Her animals needed her.

“Do you have a cell phone?”

His question cut through her thoughts. “Yes, but there are two deputies eating inside. I could report the incident to them. But…”

Head tilted slightly, he waited for her to continue, then prompted her with a, “Yes?”

Anne looked up at him again. His eyebrows were still inched close. “I have to get to the store before it closes. My animals need me and food. Reports take forever to fill out.”

Worry faded with his bright smile. Anne’s legs wobbled. The man was gorgeous!

“These creeps need to be reported. I’ll go to the store for you, Anne. Just give me a list.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How did you know my name?”

Light laughter swirled around her, caressing her skin into goose bumps. “Your name tag.” He tapped the plastic badge.

“Kestral Dermot. It’s a family name. Friends call me Kes.” His hand wrapped around hers. Warmth spread up her arm, through her body. Her breathing quickened. “I’ll be glad to go to the store for you while you file your report. A list and some cash is all I need.”

Was it an underhanded trick to take her money and run, or a genuine desire to help her? Her instincts and heart screamed trust. Logic be damned.

A spate of shooting stars burst over his head. An omen to back up those instincts. The stars had yet to fail her when she searched them.

“Thank you. I do want these men stopped before they hurt someone.” She dug through her tote for the list, then handed it and her hard-earned tips to him. “It’s probably more than you need—”

“Then you’ll get a receipt and change back. Mind if I borrow your car? Mine’s down. I was headed to a pay phone when I saw you. My cell phone’s dead.”

A traffic accident took away Aaron’s salvation, his fiancée Melinda. Lost and grief-stricken, he plunged back into his former days, drowning his grief in mindless parties and drunken debauchery, until a random accident of his own threatens his very soul. Trapped at the crossroads of heaven and hell, he finds himself in limbo, waiting for the Powers That Be to determine his fate. Now, as his soul hovers between eternal bliss and endless damnation, Melinda returns from the grave to help him earn his salvation once more.

FIVE HEARTS! Beautiful, amazing, enthralling-I cannot think of enough words to describe this magnificent short story! I found myself intrigued and aroused-my, oh my Melinda and Aaron had erotic sex. They pulled me along with them in their graphic sex. Then there were the parts of plot where I just wanted to cry. Ms. Willows has an unbelievable ability to wring emotion out of her readers. Melinda, who is dead and Aaron, who wishes to be dead are surprisingly well described for a short story. The plot flows absolutely seamlessly, even when twists come in the story. I cannot remember a story ending which I have enjoyed more. Brava, Ms. Willows! ~Marcy Arbitman, The Romance Studio

4.5 BLUE RIBBONS! Caitlyn Willows takes us on a fascinating journey of self-discovery with this short tale. I could have easily cried for Aaron, his beloved Melinda and the life that they should have had together. It’s very easy to understand his disappointment and how simple it would be to slip into his old ways after such a loss. At the same time, you get the feeling that Melinda may have physically died but she never truly left him in spirit. Ms. Willows brings us the life after death experience in a beautiful heart-touching way that readers won’t soon forget. ~Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies

[A] heart-wrenching story that is sure to pull heavily on your emotions. There were moments where I was teary eyed, instances where I shook my head in shame and times where my spine was tingling with heated passion. My Salvation was so engrossing that I read it in one setting. I could easily see the love shared between Melinda and Aaron. Their chemistry was very passionate and expanded across time. There is not much more I can say without giving away the plot; however, I took great pleasure in reading Melinda and Aaron’s story and I am sure once you discover My Salvation you will enjoy it also. ~Nikita Steele, Joyfully Reviewed

EXCERPT

Aaron Crane hoisted the bottle of Absolut to his lips and chugged it. He’d passed the buzz-stage quite some time ago, yet he still maintained a death grip around the neck. The vodka dulled the pain in his heart, filled the void in his soul, and faded the memories that assaulted him even in his dreams.

“Are you taking a leak or what?” Joe Sanchez hollered back.

“Keep your panties on,” Aaron yelled back.

He heard the other three snicker in response, most probably because Aaron had used the word “panties” rather than for the insult he’d intended. God, they really were an immature bunch. None of them had evolved beyond the mentality of a college freshman. Fun was belching contests, seeing who could piss the farthest, and laying down quarter bets of whatever game was on TV, while they scratched their balls and scarfed pizza. Aaron was the only one of the bunch who held a steady job. If he kept partying with these guys, he’d be standing behind them in the unemployment line, and he knew it. Insurance companies liked their claims adjusters alert and attentive, not to mention timely, and he’d been none of those lately. Hungover, emaciated, and perpetually tardy were more likely descriptions.

And yet, in his grief, Aaron had chosen to return to this comfort zone rather than setting out on his own. The more time he spent with these four, the more he disliked them…and himself. But then, he’d hated life and himself since the night Melinda died. The only thing he wanted was to be dead, too. That’s how he felt inside—dead.

He tossed back another drink. Who the hell got the bright idea to stop off in the middle of the desert? They were halfway to Vegas. Why the fucking side-trip?

“Screw it.”

Aaron sank to the nearest boulder and stared across a landscape silvered with the light of a full moon. A warm breeze washed over him. They’d made love under a moon like this once, with only the wind as their blanket. Melinda had wrapped her legs around his. They’d clutched each other as closely as two people could as they soared to the stars watching over them.

He’d loved everything about her from the moment they’d met—her beauty, her goodness, her laughter, her mind. Melinda made him want to be a better person. Hell, he had become a better person, shrugging off his errant ways to be the man she’d want. She was his salvation. Everything he’d dreamed of had seemed to fall in his lap once she’d beamed her smile over him. Paths Aaron never knew existed opened. The world, the future, was golden.

The day he proposed they’d scoured the Internet for the perfect honeymoon spot. There was really only one choice—Desirata. Melinda had read about the idyllic island chain in a travel magazine; a tropical paradise where all a person’s needs were met. It was off the beaten tourist path, exclusive, private—visitation was granted on a person’s needs, not their wealth. Melinda filled out the application, her eyes shining the whole time.

“I know they’ll accept us,” she’d said.

Aaron didn’t care where they went. As long as they were together, he’d give her the world if he could. What better place to start than on a white sand beach perched on the edge of a crystal blue-green ocean?

And just like that…she was ripped away from him. All because some fool blabbering on a cell phone ran a stop light at sixty miles per hour. She’d died clutching the envelope containing the Desirata application.

Grief had torn him in two. He’d tried so hard and for what? To bury the woman he loved? It was all for nothing. In the end, that’s all he had…nothing.

Aaron had quickly reverted to his previous ways, hoping to drown out the unrelenting pain that haunted him day and night. He hated life, hated the four rowdy friends who couldn’t wait to pull him back into their fold. Where once he’d found some measure of joy in the constant partying, now it was merely an escape from the horrors of an unjust world.

He closed his eyes as the breeze brushed over him, lifting the hairs on his arms. His mind drifted with the sensation, imagining Melinda was here with him, gently dancing her fingers against his skin. She’d kiss her way down his throat, while she toyed his nipples into hard dots meant for suckling. While her lips played there, her hands would wander to his cock, stroking, kneading…

Aaron clutched at the erection that burst to life. “Not now…please.”

In his present state, relief wouldn’t be possible. He was too drunk. The fact he had a hard-on at all was a shock. But with memories of Melinda assaulting him, his dick refused to obey the rules. All he could think about was how great her lips felt around him, how tight her hot pussy felt when he was inside, and how painfully lonely the world was with her gone.

Emotion clogged Aaron’s throat. Tears welled up behind his eyelids. Hand shaking, he lifted the bottle to his lips. A sudden gust of wind knocked him off-balance. Arms flailing, he toppled backward. The vodka bottle shattered against the boulder.

Aaron sat on the hard cushion of sand. Moonlight glinted off the shards of glass. Fear welled up inside him. He needed the forgetfulness in that bottle. The pain in his heart was too much to bear without it.

He hugged his knees to his chest. That’s when he noticed the blood. His hand was cut and he hadn’t—still didn’t—felt a thing. Heartache was more than he could bear, but a cut like this…nothing. It was really bleeding, too.

Wonder if it needs stitches? In his fogged brain he tried to calculate the distance to the nearest hospital. A coyote’s howl nearby snapped him upright. He was just pondering whether they could scent blood like a shark when he heard Joe stomping back his way.

“What the fuck, man. You comin’ or not?”

“I fell. Jesus, cut me some fuckin’ slack.”

Aaron shoved himself to his feet. He staggered there for a second or two, then followed Joe. At least the hard-on was gone. He glanced down to make sure and stumbled over his feet, nearly plowing into the other man.

Aaron pulled away when he reached for it. “Bottle broke. It’s just a cut. It’ll stop bleeding soon. What was so all-fired important that we had to stop in the middle of nowhere?”

“Check it out.” He motioned to where the other three stood, just beyond a sign that read, “Government Facility. Restricted Area. No Trespassing.”

What little morality Aaron had remaining reared its head. He pulled Joe back. “Are you nuts? This is a restricted area. You’re going to have us thrown in jail.”

“Like we’re gonna get caught way out here. And since when did a little something like rules stop you?” He trudged onward.

Aaron followed reluctantly behind. God only knew where they were. Visions of Area 51 gendarmes swooping down on them filled his head. They weren’t in that area, were they? He’d paid no attention to the direction in which Joe had driven. His only interest had been in reaching the bottom of the bottle.

“What is it?” he asked as he crept forward. Please don’t let it be an alien, his drunken brain whined.

“Take a look.” Joe pointed to six rectangular boxes. They looked like—

“Are those caskets?” Aaron asked.

“Sure enough.” He actually sounded proud of the discovery. “I found them the last time I came through. I was looking for a place to take a leak and there they were. Suppose it’s a desert cemetery someone dug up?”

Aaron frowned. They were old coffins, nothing more than pine boxes. But they didn’t have the aged look he would have associated with a desert cemetery. Still…it was night. “Where are the bodies that were inside?”

“Ewww…” Joe adopted a spooky voice. “Maybe it’s a vampire lair.”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot. Let’s get out of here.” He turned to go.

“Scaredy-cat. I’ll pay you fifty bucks to lay down in one.”

The other three snickered—their comment on everything.

So, that’s what this was all about. Aaron tossed up his hands. “Whatever. I’ll play your stupid game.” Anything to get out of here and on the road. The bleeding hadn’t stopped. He really needed to find a hospital.

He staggered over to the nearest coffin. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. Shaking his head to clear it, Aaron hoisted himself inside and stretched out.

His mind slipped into the limbo stage of twilight sleep. Soon the nightmares would take him and there was nothing Aaron could do to stop them. He drifted on a sea of nothingness. Two tunnels lay ahead—one dark, one light—and there he hovered, waiting…waiting…waiting.

Isabelle has long loved and cared for the dilapidated Victorian house on the hill. So when she decides to cast a spell to give her sexual expertise and the perfect mate, what better place to go than her beloved Victorian—a house of dubious reputation. But she learns all too soon that it pays to be specific in spell-casting. Everything she’s asked for is hers…back in 1901. Oh, and one more thing—she forgot to ask to keep them.

The woman of his dreams sifts through Daniel’s grasp like the fine grains of salt sprinkled on his floor. He’s known a few spell-casters in time, but for a cautious man to dare something so…impossible…well, it wouldn’t be the first time his mother considered having him committed. With the help of friends, he sets out to do the impossible—go to Isabelle. A feat seemingly doomed by calendar quirks.

Would the Fates be so cruel to keep them apart—like the Sun who always chases the Moon? Only the mercurial grandfather clock holding court in the Victorian can tell…if anybody would bother to listen…

NOTE: Unfettered was previously released by another publisher. It has been revised and re-edited for this version.

Isabelle looked up at the old Victorian house centered on the grassy, oak-shaded hill. She’d always been fascinated by this place. Built post-Civil War, the history surrounding it was sketchy. Rumor had it the original owner was the widow of a wealthy collector who had made the home into a museum in homage to her husband.

She wasn’t so certain, since she’d found no documentation to back up that story. There were plenty of tales of it being haunted as well. Someone always claimed to know someone who knew someone who had experienced ghosts in or around the place. Isabelle had spoken to several old-timers in the area. They all agreed the stories were true, and that they’d heard them from their parents and grandparents.

The moon glinting off a window caught her attention. Isabelle often wondered if the tale of ghosts had been generated by one of the loose ladies of the house during its presumed brothel period and perpetuated by adults since then to keep adventuresome kids away from the property. The brothel rumor held some weight. Ghosts…she wasn’t so sure. She’d experienced no hauntings in all the times she’d been there.

Spanish moss draped among the ancient tree limbs waved a greeting to her on the summer breeze. Its presence helped lend a sense of spookiness to the area, as did the cemetery, whose ravaged marble tombstones no longer bore the names of those buried there.

A winding cobblestone driveway large enough for two cars to pass threaded its way up the sloping rise to the house. A more direct stairway built into the lawn from the road also led straight to the driveway.

Isabelle slung her backpack over her shoulders and took the steps two at a time. She’d planned this night for months, counting the days until school was out and she had no responsibilities to take up her time. And no parents hounding her every step to talk about their “darlings.” Light from the full moon guided her way.

For some reason, upkeep on the property had ceased about twenty-five years ago. She’d toiled to keep the stairs and the driveway accessible, had even hired someone to come by once a week to trim the lawn and someone else for pest control. A house this beautiful deserved care, and she’d been doing that in some fashion for thirteen years now—ever since she was twelve years old.

She knew everyone thought she was nuts. As the years passed, the comments and the weird looks that came her way died off. Everyone seemed to accept that she’d become obsessed with the place. A few family members, even some friends, had tried to find out who owned the property so she could purchase it. Isabelle sighed. That would have been a dream come true. But the aloof owner—the mysterious Daniel Braddock Estate—wasn’t interested in selling. Odd that her attempts to purchase it never brought him—or her, or them, or any representative thereof—around to investigate her handiwork on the place. She’d always fantasized the owner would be so grateful for her meticulous and loving care that he would have no choice but to grant her the deed. After all, she visited it nearly every day and had yet to see another soul there besides the handyman and exterminator. Even her hope to snatch it up in a tax-lien sale hadn’t come to fruition. The taxes were always paid on time, in full, every year by the estate. She looked around as she crossed the lawn. If they loved it so much, why did they stop taking care of it?

Trying to find out was driving her nuts. What little information she could find only led to more questions. Upon the wealthy widow’s death, the house had passed into the hands of Penelope Marsden, a single woman of presumably ill repute. She’d owned and operated the Victorian around 1880. Upon her death eighteen years later, it had passed into the hands of Thomas Braddock. He seemed to have disappeared around 1900—no record of death, just disappeared. He did, however, have the foresight to deed the house to his younger brother Daniel…who’d also disappeared two years later. That didn’t help the house’s reputation any. Given the house’s scandalous reputation, its lack of repair, absent owners, and the missing prior owners—it all coalesced into tales of murder, mayhem, and all manner of nefarious doings, which added even more grist to the rumor mill.

Isabelle scrunched up her nose as she puzzled through her thoughts. People didn’t disappear without a reason. Although, considering what she’d found in the basement… She shook her head. No. They had moved away, died, procreated. The Daniel Braddock Estate was evidence of that. Someone had obviously planned for something, had an heir or heirs. Someone somewhere had answers, and they were being very tight-lipped about it. She shook her head again to get rid of the rambling thoughts. Her mind needed to be clear tonight, not jumbled with a puzzle that had thwarted her for years.

She paused at the edge of the lawn. Moonlight bathed the three-story house in a wash of silver that was almost magical. She took that as a sign, a blessing for what she was about to do. At night, the wear on the place wasn’t as apparent as it was during daylight. Alas, her expertise and pocketbook only went so far. She could keep the interior clean and pest-free—quite a feat when there was no running water or electricity—but outside, the best she could do was keep the yard up, brush the cobwebs from the shingles, and nail the loose shutters back into place. Oh…and keep the windows sparkling, at least the ones she could reach. She’d even replaced those broken by time and hurled rocks.

Determined, she refused to give up. One day this house would be hers. Her efforts had to win her that right. She refused to entertain the possibility of failure or how illogical her actions might seem. She was desperate. Where else could she turn except to the house she’d loved all these years? She’d cared for it as if it were her very own, loved it as no one else did. Surely that devotion would be returned.

Isabelle crossed the cobblestone drive and retrieved the skeleton key from beneath the garden rock where she’d first found it thirteen years ago. Her parents would have had a fit had they known she’d been inside the house back then. She never told them, although they knew she frequently visited the place. She’d seen them follow her a time or two, but they’d never stopped her visits.

She trotted up the marble steps and, once she stood on the old wooden porch, she paused to look back. In its heyday, she imagined it was quite impressive to see carriages dispelling visitors at these steps. Day or night, it would have been wondrous.

The creak of the slowly rocking swing in the corner of the porch caught her attention. How many lovers had sat there? She could almost imagine their ghostly presence as they watched her. In all the years she’d been coming here, no spirit had ever made its presence known.

Isabelle shoved the key into the lock. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges. Amazing what two cans of WD-40 could do to make the squeals and groans disappear. She wished she could have done something like that about the wooden floors. They creaked with every step she took. But at least they were clean.

Her first visit inside the house had left her a dust-covered, cobweb-draped mess. Every visit left her that way until she’d finally decided to clean it years later. She’d dusted, swept, and polished everything she could. Scrubbed the grime from the windows inside and out. Everything might be threadbare and worn, but it was at least a little cleaner. Well, at least as clean as could be, given twenty-five years of neglect. The rugs, drapes, and upholstery had been too fragile, so she’d left them as is.

Isabelle shut and locked the door behind her and set her backpack on the floor. The grandfather clock always greeted her first upon entry, its hands frozen at the twelve o’clock position. She remembered the day she’d polished it until the dark wood gleamed. Fixing it, though, was way beyond her expertise. She’d flirted with the idea of hiring someone to get it working again, but since she didn’t own the place, she wasn’t sure that was a wise move. No one minded that the yard and house were kept in order. That benefited the neighborhood by keeping the rodent population at bay and the yard from being a true eyesore as well as helping resale values in the area. However, openly acknowledging that she’d actually breached the front door—that she had been inside the house on multiple occasions—was a different issue. While the temptation to do so in the hope it would drag the owner out made her consider it, the threat that it might backfire and she’d lose access to the house stayed her hand.

She brushed her hand down the side of the huge clock. Midnight or noon? What momentous event had stopped time? The voices of the past were as silent as those mysterious trustees who held the ownership reins.

Isabelle inhaled. The wild-berry air fresheners she’d placed there three days ago had put a crisp, fresh scent throughout the house. She stood there and absorbed the house’s energy. A feeling of warmth surrounded her. Maybe those voices weren’t so silent after all.

She picked up the box of safety matches from the Queen Anne console across from the clock and lit the new candles in the sconces on the foyer wall. Using them for light, she wandered into the main parlor and lit all the remaining candles there as well. Faded mirrors reflected the golden, flickering flames, adding coziness to the warmth she’d perceived earlier.

It was going to be a wonderful night. She just knew it. By the time she left in the morning, all her needs and most of her wishes would be fulfilled.

Dark, gleaming stairs beckoned her upward when she returned to the foyer. Was that how previous occupants and guests felt? Drawn into the very heart of the house? Or did they prefer to wander into the basement playroom just off the empty wine cellar to engage in harder sex play? She didn’t know much about that aspect of sex but was pretty sure that every bondage toy in existence back in the day was down there.

Isabelle laughed. She’d thought it was a dungeon when she’d first seen the room. Whips, chains, collars, cuffs, tables, and racks—they’d stirred something deep inside her. She’d like to say it was curiosity, but her pounding heart and raised pulse told her it was much more than that. Even as young as she’d been when she’d first stumbled upon them, aspects of the room had inspired her imagination and excited her in ways she’d eventually learned were sexual in nature. That room and its contents had given Isabelle her first taste of adult horny.

She’d spent as much time exploring that naughty basement playroom as she had the rest of the house. She had even indulged and had lain naked on the rack, her arms and legs spread wide and her eyes closed as she’d imagined the flogger being laid across her bare ass.

Her breath quickened at the thought. Her pussy moistened with the throb of her clit. Yes, she’d imagined the fire building in her ass until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Then she’d remove the soft leather strap from its nearby hook—the strap she’d bought to keep there—whip herself with it, then rub it over her clitoris until she came.

How many others had “suffered” such a fate down there? Or maybe upstairs in one of the many lavishly decorated bedrooms with those sturdy four-poster beds?

If the rumors were true, thousands had been pleasured in those bedrooms. Judging from the fact that the basement toys did exist, Isabelle had no reason to doubt those particular tales.

Set away from the main city and protected by the many oak tree sentries around the property, it would have been a popular brothel. Discreet. There were those who claimed Penelope Marsden was a madam who had passed the house into the hands of her nephew—or son, depending on who told the story. Thomas Braddock presumably added to the home’s hedonistic history with grand orgies and parties, where bondage and discipline were as prevalent as the food and wine that freely flowed.

As for the man himself, no one seemed to know what had become of Thomas or his successor. Daniel Braddock simply disappeared one night in the early 1900s. Some said he ran off with the daughter of a wealthy banker. Some thought he might have met with an untimely end, perhaps while strapped to the very rack Isabelle indulged herself on. Some hinted that he’d gone into service during World War I and either died or met a French bride and stayed in Europe. Maybe both men had served in the war, and their stories had become entangled over the years. Maybe that explained why the house still remained with the estate—perhaps a descendant had kept the place for sentimental reasons. That was so much more pleasing than to think the heirs battled over the old place. If only that person would come here, could see how much she loved this house…

Her rambling thoughts had distracted her again. At this rate, she’d never get to the point of her visit. She needed to hurry so that she could take advantage of every second that still remained.

Isabelle retrieved the backpack and returned to the parlor. Candlelight reflected off the mirrors around the room, brightening it as well as electricity would. Out of the whole house, this was her favorite room. Threadbare gold brocade flecked with splashes of red covered the chairs and the love seat, while remnants of matching curtains flanked the windows. A black-marbled fireplace veined with gold dominated the far wall. She’d love to see it alive with a toasty fire. She pictured herself entwined in the arms of a lover before it. A good lover, one who knew how to stoke a woman’s desires. Not like the men she’d known thus far.

She glanced up at the portrait hanging above the mantel. Now there was a woman who knew what good loving was about. Black hair tumbled down her back, revealing a glimpse of creamy white skin beneath. Her face was turned away, barely visible from the shadows of whatever blocked the light. But it was obvious from the arch of her body that she was in the throes of pleasure. She stretched on the red covering that draped over her breast and one hip. Isabelle had found the remnant of what she thought was the covering upstairs.

The woman in the painting had been real.

That was what Isabelle wanted—intense pleasure at the hands of another. She’d even let her own black hair grow into a cascade of curls, hoping to somehow channel the woman’s spirit. Her long hair had definitely gotten her male attention, but none had possessed the skill her body craved.

With any luck, that would change after tonight. She’d have not only the knowledge but also the experience to get what she needed in the bedroom. A little luck wouldn’t hurt either. Or a lot of magic.

The alarm on her watch alerted Isabelle that midnight was fast approaching. She had little time to prepare. Everything had to be ready, so she could execute the spell when the full moon was at its zenith.

Isabelle unzipped the backpack and started to lay out her materials. She’d done a little preparation the day before—moving furniture, rolling up the rugs she’d prayed wouldn’t fall apart—and had exposed a large section of the bare wooden floor. She wanted to do this spell before the fireplace with the woman’s portrait in full view. Her desire was simple—to increase the sexual quality of her life and find the perfect match for her. What better way to draw that to her than by appealing to the notorious qualities of this house?

The spell was sure to work. In fact, she was sure it would. Madam Delores at the New Age shop where she’d purchased the spell kit was more than adamant of its success as long as Isabelle followed the directions.

She’d written down everything she wished for and had committed the words to memory. Madam Delores had also insisted that Isabelle give her the words to write down along with the instructions.

“Things happen in the heat of the moment, in the rush of the mystic vortex,” she’d explained.

As Isabelle placed her white votive candles in a wide circle, she repeated the words again in her mind.

They’ve bonded as friends, working side by side over the last six months – jaguar shifter, human, and calico cat. Now a freak lab accident bonds Cristían, Jeremy, and Lupe as lovers.

Lupe delights in her new human form. Wishes can come true. They made her human and gave her the men she loves. She will defeat anyone who dares threaten her new status and her men.

Jeremy thrills yet fears his new role as shape-shifting jaguar, but his relationship with Lupe and Cristían are more than he ever dreamed. The mysteries left to be resolved and the people trying to kill them taint it all. One thing he knows…no one will separate them.

As for Cristían… He’s been blessed with love where he never expected to find it. Now a force from beyond tells him he created a monster only he can destroy. How can he do so knowing it could cost him the two people he loves the most? Or is he the monster he fears?

4.5 STARS! Into the Wild is a fun, sexy, quick paced read. I really enjoyed how very well developed all Ms. Willow’s characters are. I felt intimately connected to them, as if I were reading about old friends. Readers will have no choice but to adore Lupe, who, no matter what form, is all haughty cat which leads to some pretty hilarious moments. She commands respect and defends her loved ones relentlessly. Her men pamper her outrageously along with nearly everyone else in the story, with the exception of those too stupid to realize how dangerous she is. I was shocked at just how attracted I was to Jeremy and Cristían. I normally go for the Alpha or beta males. Both of them are quiet academics. They are both very sweet and intelligent heroes. All I wanted to do was curl up between them and let them spoil me rotten. I think that readers will fall in love with both as well. The sex between the three main characters is intense, passionate and emotional. I found myself steaming up the windows as I read. Ms. Willow leads the reader on an emotional journey that is well worth the money. I encourage you to go out read and enjoy Into the Wild.~T.S. Peters, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

EXCERPT:

The soft whirr of the centrifuge hypnotized Cristían Duarte. He stared, unblinking, while the red digital numbers ticked down. There was nothing else to do at this point but wait and hope.

It had to work. Please let it work.

He was running out of DNA. Replicating what he had had failed so far. Each time he needed an original source, and with Rose dead, there was little of the original DNA remaining. He’d extracted it from her toothbrush, hairbrush, the sheets where she’d last slept, and the ground soaked with the blood from her murder.

The memory stabbed through his gut. Her big brown eyes had stared lifelessly at the stars, her mouth frozen in a scream she didn’t have time to utter. The coppery stench of blood had tainted the air, mingling with the stench of the wildfires that had plagued the surrounding area, creating a horror to add to those already crowded in his head. Her throat had been ripped open with one massive bite. She’d never seen it coming, never had the chance to defend herself.

Cristían closed his eyes. Only minutes prior to her death, his clan had been enjoying a well-deserved run in Balboa Park, never realizing death would visit them. Rose’s death blow had been delivered from a threat they never knew existed—mountain lions, another clan of shape-shifters. Until a year ago, the mountain lions hadn’t known about the jaguar clan either, and they weren’t happy about the discovery.

The mountain lions were volatile and quick to defend their people from outside threats. Cristían couldn’t really blame them. They’d lost everything to humans. And discovering other shape-shifters had brought to life stories they’d thought were myths. Tales from their ancestors of other shifters, of wars fought and civilizations destroyed. They were prepared to do whatever it took to protect themselves and their lands, even if it meant killing what they didn’t understand.

Finally an uneasy peace was forged between their two clans. A treaty set in place. However, suspicions still lingered on both sides, and grief still clenched Cristían’s heart.

He lined up the fifteen petri dishes into three rows of five, then laid out two glass pipettes, in the hope keeping busy would banish the memory. It didn’t work.

The jaguar clan had lost a woman that dark night six months ago…and the children she carried. All their hopes and dreams for a future were now dust on the wind, Rose and her babies’ ashes mingled with Mother Earth, as was custom. Cristían wished he could join them and was ashamed to admit he’d thought about it more times than was healthy. He’d kept those feelings to himself and poured out his grief and rage in body-racking sobs each night. Soaking one of Rose’s pillowcases with his tears while he cried, then masturbating in a desperate attempt to reconnect with her. He knew he wasn’t the only one who cried. Her death cut the clan to the core of their being. She was their heart, their hope for the future.

It was one of those things they didn’t discuss; doing so would release the floodgates holding back all the grief and anger pent up from centuries of loss. Their homes and cities destroyed; family, friends, and lovers gone forever. When one was generally long-lived, forever was a very long time. Joining them in death…

Cristían swallowed against the pain. A coward’s way out or a merciful end? He shook the darkness away. Death would mean a complete loss of hope. He refused to accept it. Two friends helped keep him whole. He wouldn’t lay grief over his death upon their shoulders. Jeremy and Lupe deserved better than that.

He couldn’t say when he took that step away from the dark abyss or what prompted his new plan. At some point, he realized Lupe had given him a reason to live, and Jeremy, the faith to try. Once he set foot on that path—remaining alive—nothing deterred him. What was the sense of having a state-of-the-art laboratory if not to use it to its fullest potential? New hope bolstered his morale, followed quickly by one failure after the other. He carried on, though, determined to find the solution, to continue setting measures in place for success.

He’d resurrect Rose or die trying.

“Brrrow?”

Smiling, he glanced down at the calico cat threading herself between his legs. Lupe truly had been his lifeline to sanity these last months. They’d met one day when he was helping Wyatt and Trina Caldwell move. Lupe had let Cristían know in no uncertain terms that she deemed him worthy enough of her attention. Cristían had bought Trina’s old house, and Lupe moved in with him. However, neither of them had seen the place in months. The lab he currently did his research in had become their sanctuary; the sprawling mansion above it, their home.

He hated the cavernous house but loved the superior, high-tech lab. And it didn’t take Cristían long to realize why Jeremy Gibson had moved into the house—why go home when everything you needed was right here?

It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to have a cat in a lab, but Lupe was her own feline and would have her way. It helped that she was respectful of the experiments he and Jeremy worked on. Lupe’s presence helped him and Jeremy deal with any residual loneliness and isolation as well, though that was nonexistent with his best friend by his side 24-7.

Lupe made sure they ate, comforted them when disappointment dragged them both down, and best of all, gave them unconditional love. All she demanded in return was affection, food, and to sleep in one of their beds. She never failed to make him smile or lift his spirits, and she was better than any girlfriend he’d ever had.

Cristían squatted down to her level. She batted the buttons on his lab coat, then tapped her paw against his chin. “No worries, little warrior.” He smiled when he said her nickname. The little cat had earned the title honorably when she’d fought a member of the mountain lion clan and won, paws down. Of course, that made her not very popular with that faction of shape-shifters, but to Cristían’s jaguar clan, Lupe could do no wrong.

“What the hell is that cat doing in here?”

Cristían stiffened. Okay, perhaps one member of the jaguar clan wasn’t a Lupe fan. Barry Page had always had his weasel-faced snout stuck so far in the rules that he shit protocol. Cristían watched as he trotted down the stairs and stormed their way. The loose black trousers Barry wore rippled under his forceful stride, the matching shirt molding to his torso. The color rarely varied. Barry claimed it helped remind him of his true self and their heritage, suggesting he was the only one who did so.

Lupe arched into the hand Cristían ran over her back, then cast her sage green gaze in Barry’s direction and instantly dismissed him with a flick of her tail. Cristían tried not to laugh. He’d flicked his jaguar tail at Barry more times than he could count over their long association. Barry just wasn’t someone he was eager to see.

“Leave her alone, Barry.” Distracted as always, Jeremy still didn’t hesitate to come to Lupe’s defense. He was always so quiet, so focused on his work, that Cristían usually forgot he was in the same room with him.

As Jeremy’s reward, Lupe slinked his way and twined herself around his legs. “You’re my best girl, Lups.” Jeremy gave her head a quick rub.

Barry snorted. “She’s your only girl. You never leave the estate.”

“Everything I want is here, and I’ve got a hand that does just fine for personal tension.” Jeremy held up two beakers, one with clear liquid, the other, blue-green, studying them under ultraviolet light. “I’m on a roll here, and women have a tendency to sidetrack me.”

Cristían had never seen a man more determined to prove or disprove his own theory. Jeremy’s dedication matched Cristían’s. They shared the lab—Jeremy on one end of the long stainless steel counter, Cristían on the other—bounced theories off each other, and never once called the other one to task for seeking answers.

Barry picked a long blond hair from his sleeve, grimaced, then fed it to the flame on Jeremy’s Bunsen burner. “Then maybe you should try a man.”

Jeremy grinned and watched the thickening liquids swirl in their glass containers. “Who says I haven’t? You offering?”

That was a door Jeremy really didn’t want to open. Barry could get…possessive. Cristían knew that from experience. In a clan whose numbers were dwindling, one got relief where one could, or went outside the clan, something Barry would never do. Barry didn’t necessarily take what he wanted, but once he got something, he wasn’t inclined to let go.

Jeremy poured a drop of blue-green liquid into the clear. “I could go for a blowjob. Just make sure you zip me up when you’re done.”

Cristían smothered his laugh. It came out a sputtered snicker instead and earned him Barry’s infamous snake-eyed glare.

“Whoa. Didn’t expect that.” Jeremy drew back from the beaker he held. Lupe craned her neck for a look at what he was talking about. His concoction was now a small vortex of purple and gold. He poured the contents of both beakers into a larger one. He lifted the container to the light, his grin widening. The vortex grew, spinning faster. Pinpoints of glowing white flecked within. “It looks like a tiny nebula or galaxy. A star factory.”

“Just make sure it’s only yourself you blow up when that shit explodes,” Barry said.

“And deprive you of the pleasure that is me?” Jeremy’s grin widened more, his brown eyes glimmering. “Never.”

Lupe meowed and rubbed hard against him.

“Jealous, puss?” Barry laughed when she growled at him.

“Don’t call her that.” Cristían watched the centrifuge’s timer count down the final ten. “She doesn’t like it.”

She hissed and rolled onto her back, claws and teeth bared. Jeremy kicked Barry’s shoulder, sloshing his experiment on the floor. It splashed onto Lupe. She whirled around, eyes wide with fear. Barry grabbed the scruff of her neck and hoisted her into the air, holding the spitting little cat at arm’s length.

Cristían and Jeremy took a step in his direction. However, as Cristían was more than aware, Lupe was completely capable of defending herself. She swung her lower legs up and speared her back claws into Barry’s forearm. He screeched and let her go. Lupe landed on all fours. She gave him a dismissive chuff and a flick of her tail, then tucked behind Cristían’s legs to clean her fur.

“If you had more experience with women, that might not have happened.” Cristían couldn’t resist the jab. Barry deserved the rebuke and the bloody claw marks going down his arm. Cristían scooped Lupe into his arms. “It’s probably not a good idea to lick that, little one. Let’s get you cleaned up. No water. I promise.”

She purred and kneaded her paws into his chest. The centrifuge beeped out the end of its cycle. Great. His own experiment was ready for the next step. Lupe curled herself around his neck, leaving his hands free. He popped the top on the device and lifted out the tray of vials.

“I see there’s no offer to help me.” Barry snagged a wad of paper towels from the stack on the opposite counter and dabbed at his wounds.

“You had it coming.” Cristían watched Jeremy study the glowing mass. Judging from his frown, it looked like another failure. The solution appeared to be losing momentum. Cristían felt his pain. He’d thought for sure Jeremy had had the breakthrough he’d been looking for.

“I’d say ‘fuck you,’ but I wouldn’t want either of you to get your hopes up.” Barry pressed the towels against his arm.

“Our loss. More’s the pity.” Cristían set the vials beside the petri dishes he’d prepared earlier, then carried Lupe over to the sink counter against the wall to wipe her fur. “Did you come down here for a reason or just to harass us about our work again?”

Barry smacked the paper towels into the biohazard trash can and stomped his way. “Your cougar’s waiting for you upstairs.”

Frieda was there? This early in the morning? Was the sun even up yet? What the hell could she possibly want this time of day? She was a beautiful woman, but gods, was she a pain in the ass. If he didn’t need her for the next phase of his experiment, he would have ended it long ago. Hell, he never would have become involved with her in the first place. Beauty only went so far; the woman had no substance.

“Mountain lion, Barry. Have a little respect. You know they’re very picky about their name.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. Mountain lion, cougar, puma. Lupe or puss.”

Lupe growled at him. Barry wasn’t making any friends here today.

“Who gives a fuck? She’s not happy you’ve kept her waiting, and she sure as hell can’t keep her hands to herself. She was all over me.”

Typical Frieda. That’s why it was so easy to lure her into his bed. She had the morals of an alley cat, not the bearing of a potential queen.

“I’m not very thrilled that one of them is at this estate.”

Cristían blotted a heavy paper towel over Lupe’s thick fur. Deep purrs rumbled up. “It’s part of the treaty the clans agreed to. The treaty you helped broker, remember?” Unrestricted access to everything the other possessed—and that included communal homes like the former Prentice estate—and all technology.

They were supposed to be open books to each other, in the hope their clans could benefit from one another’s knowledge and grow and survive. It was only a matter of time before they all started working in each other’s labs. Cristían hated the idea. They could use the lab at the Braden Science Institute all they wanted, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be rubbing elbows with them at this lab. Here there was the luxury of privacy. Neither he nor Jeremy wanted to give that up. Not even to the jaguar clan. Considering Barry’s near-constant presence, Cristían suspected tensions and suspicions were mounting at Braden over their exclusive use of the Prentice lab. It could be worse. Fortunately, Wyatt and Joaquin were too busy with business and babies. However, that left the worrying and grunt work to Barry.

“Yeah, I know all too well. Trust me, I’m monitoring the situation.” Barry leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. Lupe turned her back to him. “I don’t like Frieda up there unsupervised. What if she comes down here?”

“They’ve all been down here before, and experiments are frequent on both sides of the fence. They won’t know what we’re doing.” Cristían parted Lupe’s fur, chasing a drop that wiggled down to her skin. She sat down with a resigned sigh and started to clean Barry’s blood off her paws.

“Do either of you know what you’re doing?” Barry snapped his finger toward Jeremy. “Our Mensa genius is over there trying to disprove his own theory that celestial impacts helped create us shape-shifters in the first place. There are some who would view that as blasphemy. It’s a slap in the face to all that our people revere.”

True, though Cristían had been too wrapped up in his own quest to think about the religious significance to both their peoples—jaguar and mountain lion. Considering everything the jaguar had been through, it was hard for Cristían to believe in unseen gods anymore.

One thing both clans had in common was the belief they were born of star dust. Jeremy’s linking their ancestral origins with impact craters on Earth seemed to support that. Now he was trying to prove otherwise.

“And you—” Barry thrust that scolding finger at him. Cristían fought the urge to snap it in two. “If they knew what you were doing. Good gods, Cristían, you’re trying to clone Rose!”

He bowed his head. Lupe braced her paws against Cristían’s chest and butted her nose against his. He scooped her into his arms and let her cuddle him. He loved the feel of her soft fur between his fingers. It reminded him of Rose’s when she shifted—soft, thick. Of the old days when their biggest worry was planning the next celebration of life.

Barry dropped his hand on Cristían’s shoulder. “I miss her too. You know that. But this is wrong, especially now that the rest of our people have moved on to new relationships.” He might as well have said leprosy; his tone implied it.

Cristían shrugged off his touch and set Lupe on her feet. She sauntered over to see Jeremy. “I haven’t moved on.”

“Then what do you call Frieda?” He jerked his thumb toward the stairs that led up into the main house. “Much as I dislike our association with these shifters, I certainly don’t want us all to come to blows over a love affair gone wrong. If she’s only a diversion for you, end it now, before things get out of control.”

Cristían squared his shoulders and faced the shorter man. “I can’t. I need Frieda. If I’m successful, Rose will need a compatible host body. With her feline-shifter traits, Frieda fits that role to perfection.”

Rage boiled up inside him. They’d fought that entity for years—an evil directly responsible for the genocide of Cristían’s clan. There was no greater insult. Cristían’s claws extended as his hands morphed into his black jaguar form. The clink of glass as Jeremy set his work aside cut through his anger. A moment later, he felt Jeremy’s heat next to him. The intent was clear—Jeremy was making a stand with him, taking sides. Cristían refused to let his friend’s blood spill over words, and fighting among themselves wasn’t going to help matters. But Cristían wouldn’t stand there and be insulted either.

He willed himself to shift back to human and seated the form in place with a deep breath.

“Get out,” he told Barry, jerking his chin toward the stairs. “While I’m still able to remember you loved Rose as much as the rest of us.”

Barry’s lip curled. “If you’re planning to do this, you’ve already forgotten.” A crisp pivot carried him away. His soft soles tapped on the linoleum, then scuffed up the stairs. Barry’s gaze was locked on his cell phone as he punched in numbers, most likely to tattle to Wyatt and Joaquin. The door at the top opened and banged shut.

Blessed silence filled the lab. Cristían pulled in the strands of peace Jeremy and Lupe offered, shoved aside a sudden headache at the base of his skull, and returned to his experiment. Static arced from his fingers to the stainless steel table. Cristían muttered a curse and jerked his hand back. Slender bolts of electricity spread across the table and everything on it before it finally dissipated.

“What the hell…” One stride brought Jeremy to his side. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

A loud pop cut in before Cristían could reply.

He and Jeremy swung their gazes to the reenergized liquid at Jeremy’s workstation. It swirled, sizzled, and grew with every millisecond. Pop turned to bang, and it doubled in size. Sparks shot upward, showering miniature fireworks everywhere. Some kissed the floor spill. The droplets came to life. Spiral bands spread out and began to rotate counterclockwise. Lupe growled and backed away, one foot at a time. Her fur shimmered where the solution had splashed her earlier. And the mass in the beaker continued to grow, to pulse in time with the bands on the floor and the remnants dampening Lupe’s fur.

Gods, what had they created? It looked like the thing was communicating with all its parts!

“Uh-oh,” Jeremy muttered.

Not something one wanted to hear in a lab.

“I think we need to get the hell out of here.” Jeremy scooped Lupe up in one arm. He grabbed his laptop in the other hand, leaving the cords behind while he kept one eye on the out-of-control experiment.

Cristían did the same, shoving as many of the petri dishes as possible into the pockets of his lab coat and praying he could get them to safety without breaking them. Then he stacked the vials on the laptop. They were the last part of Rose he possessed. He clutched the vials and the computer to his chest and spun around for the stairs.

Time slowed. Each step felt weighted. The roar built. Then the flash—gold, purple, beautiful. Breathtaking beauty, earsplitting noise, and then…nothing.

INTO THE NIGHT
Book 2 – Into The Heart Series
by Caitlyn Willows
Erotic Romance – Paranormal – Shape-shifter
September 2008
Cover Artist – Marci Gass

It’s an experience too farfetched to be real, but Trina Tate knows she holds the memories of another woman’s soul. Memories that cry out to be with the man, the king she once loved. Drawn to the park each night Trina watches shape-shifting black jaguars running…and mating…and craves to be a part of that. Is she shifting herself or is that too only memory?

Wyatt Caldwell has resolved himself to a life without his soulmate. He’s lost the love of his life twice. Duty now occupies him — duty as head of Braden Institute, duty as leader of the shape-shifters. But once he sees Trina roaming, searching the park fully nude, body and soul calling for his touch. How could he possibly resist?

BLUE RIBBON RATING 4! I enjoyed unveiling the mystery of INTO THE HEART 2: INTO THE NIGHT. The struggles within Wyatt’s pack and the dynamics of Wyatt’s relationship with Trina are just two of the areas I liked. On one hand, she is his least favorite person, but at the same time he is drawn to her in ways he doesn’t understand. Much like opposites attracting and love being the flipside of hate. Wyatt is so alpha that you don’t know if you want to slap him or snuggle with him. This is a heartwarming story of love, betrayal and new found peace. ~LadyBirdRobi, Romance Junkies

FOUR ANGELS! Into the Night is the second book of the Into the Heart series about shape-shifters by Caitlyn Willows. Both Trina and Wyatt are major secondary characters in the first book and it is the events of the first story that have lead to the strange events of this story. In this story, the physical relationships between the jaguar clan and Trina and Wyatt are much more graphic and explicit. Wyatt seduces Trina while he is still in his jaguar shape and the clan doesn’t limit sexual relations to just one-on-one male and female intercourse. If this bothers you then you probably won’t enjoy this story. Both the characters of Trina and Wyatt exhibit changes in their personalities and I think the changes in Trina are definitely for the better. She is becoming less self absorbed and more likable. The sexual relationship developing between Wyatt and Trina isn’t the only thing this story is about. The jaguar clan appears to be being stalked and hunted down one by one to be killed and the clan needs to pull together and figure out why and how to stop their enemy. Trina just may be able to offer them some insight that they need to solve the problem but can the clan learn to trust her in time? If you enjoy a good sexual shape-shifting story filled with drama and intrigue, then you will like Into the Night, but I recommend you read the first book, Into the Lair, first for some crucial stage setting! ~Stephanie B, Fallen Angel Reviews

Focusing on an unsavory secondary character from the previous story, Into the Lair, Caitlyn Willows’ Into the Night has a striking redemptive note to it. Trina is truly a reformed woman. The sex between Wyatt and Trina is scalding, but there are also male-male and ménage interactions. The plot is fairly easy to decipher, however, there is a little twist that may catch the reader by surprise. This story stands alone, but without reading Into The Lair first, Trina’s actions and transformations aren’t nearly as startling. A pleasing tale, Into the Night is a satisfying addition to Ms. Willow’s shape-shifter series. ~Chris, Joyfully Reviewed

EXCERPT:

Trina pulled in a hard breath. A thousand different scents assaulted her. She shook her head to clear it and tumbled to one side. Vertigo. Damn, it was happening again. Trina caught herself before she fell and eased down onto the cool grass. Nausea roiled in her stomach. She wrapped her arms around her midriff in a desperate attempt to keep from throwing up. The buzz in her head grew to a roar. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain she knew was coming. It slammed into the back of her skull with the force of a sledgehammer.

She tucked into a fetal position, shaking arms clutching her knees. Blackness clouded her mind, and she felt herself drop into a void. Her body convulsed, as if it were trying to leave the confines of her skin. Trina couldn’t say if the seizure was real or just the workings of her troubled mind. Finally, the sensation passed, and she peeled her eyelids open.

She was sprawled on the ground, her fingers digging into the soft grass like a lifeline. Deep gouges bloodied her forearms. She panted, as if she’d run a marathon, each hard breath amplified as the pain in her head drifted away.

Trina pushed herself upright. She felt weak now, every movement an effort. Braced against the tree once more, she hugged her knees. This was why she’d sought the jaguar shape-shifters out. She wanted answers. Needed them. Except the pull of sex, the smell of sweat and hormones, the magic of whatever they were, had taken over instead. She’d been compelled to strip off her clothes, to watch, to join them.

Then Wyatt had been upon her, tracking her, reeking of sex and maleness, asserting his dominance. And she caved, letting him do whatever he wished, take whatever he wanted. The loss of control, the total submission, affected her in ways she’d never imagined. The old Trina would have nipped that in the bud without blinking. But this person she’d become, this person she didn’t recognize…

She buried her face in her hands to squelch the rush of tears. Trina didn’t know what she’d become. She needed help — their help. Somehow she had to convince them to do so, convince them she wasn’t crazy or nosy or whatever she’d been before. She needed to convince herself, too. She didn’t know which task was harder, getting someone to believe she’d changed, or trying to believe it herself.

No, she knew what was hardest — asking for help in the first place. It’d taken her a great deal of soul-searching to get to this point — finding the clan and following them. She couldn’t let the opportunity pass now. The chances of finding them again would be few after tonight; they’d be more watchful now that she’d gotten too close. Of course, Trina could always corner Wyatt at the institute.

Just like he could corner me.

Trina’s pulse leaped at the thought. She hugged herself at the memory — the promise — of his hard, hot body looming over hers. Here was a man who took control without asking, who took it because it was his right. If he could do all this to her in the space of an hour and with an audience, what would he do if he had privacy and all the time in the world? The things he could do to her body! The things he could do to her heart.

She shook her head. No, being alone with Wyatt Caldwell was a big mistake. It was better to get this over with tonight. To make the shape-shifters listen and give her the answers she needed.

If they could.

Trina pushed to her feet and brushed her hands down her T-shirt. Her ragged nails snagged on the cotton. Her forearms stung. She didn’t want to see how much damage she’d done to herself while she was out of it. The truly bizarre thing was that, by morning, any sign of injury would be gone anyway.

It was one of those new mysteries happening to her, like how she could now see in the dark, how her body healed overnight, how her sense of smell rivaled that of a bloodhound. She’d learned to accept the enhanced abilities; after all, what other choice did she have? But the isolation, turmoil, and confusion they caused were driving her slowly insane. Or maybe she’d always been close to the edge, and these events were accelerating her decline. The last few nights she’d spent watching the jaguars was the first time she’d felt connected to anything in six months. No wonder she’d hesitated to shatter that by approaching them.

God, you’re pathetic.

Trina winced at the words her conscience threw at her. The last time she’d heard those exact words had set her on a course from which she’d sworn she’d never deviate. Never again was she going to be the victim in any way, shape, or form.

Trina sighed. That decision had isolated her as well. How ironic she’d be suffering this — she looked at her hands — whatever this was, now.

She lifted her chin and tried to catch the clan’s scent. A cacophony of smells slammed into her — the zoo, the residue from the autumn fires, the ocean, vehicle exhaust. Blood.

Fresh nausea clenched her stomach before she considered it was probably her own blood filtering into the mix. She’d only had six months to learn how to deal with a super-sensitized sniffer. Sorting smells in the rain forest was vastly different than doing so in the city.

Trina shook her head. No, this was a lot of blood. Something big had been killed and recently, too, since the stench of decomposition hadn’t set in. Now that was a smell she’d never had a problem identifying. Living in the rain forest, life and death were never more than a hundred yards away, and nature quickly reabsorbed the loss. But this…

She debated on whether to call the police. The conversation played in her mind. I think something’s dead. No, I don’t know what. I don’t know if it’s a person. No, I don’t know where. Somewhere in Balboa Park. No, I’m not a fucking psychic. This isn’t a crank call.

Trina sighed and let it go. Without specifics, there wasn’t anything she could do to help. She clenched her fist against her thigh and forced her attention on finding the clan. Except too many scents vied for her attention, making it difficult to sort them out.

Now what? Did she wander the park, hoping to run into them? Disillusioned, she wrapped her arms around her midriff as she determined her next move. Wyatt’s scent drifted upward. Trina smiled. Of course, he’d been all over her. His scent would naturally be on her.

She inhaled and felt a rush of goose bumps over her skin. Her breath hitched as her body remembered the hard thrust of his body. She scuffed her hands over her arms in a futile attempt to banish the desire burning inside and then lifted her nose to the air to catch Wyatt’s scent.

There. Trina expanded her senses and caught a whiff of the rest of the clan. They’d congregated not too far away. Pulling in a breath and warning her libido against getting sidetracked, she headed in that direction.

Sebastian and Lauren Garner think it’s the chance of a lifetime when they are invited on a unique expedition to search for the secret of long life. But it’s an experience that holds more adventure than they anticipated. It’s a chance of a lifetime, all they have to give up is their souls. Deep in the Yucatan jungle, the Garners are running out of time to save themselves. Does the key to salvation lie in an ancient one who has cast his spell over them, or does he too have an agenda of his own? Who do they trust when all seems lost? What do they chose when the promise of the world and forever is within their grasp?

FIVE STARS! [A]n incredible book, with all of my favorite elements; love, sex, mystery, sex, adventure and, oh, did I mention sex? Lauren is a beautiful, intelligent young woman who is desperately in love with both her husband and her career. Sebastian is equally in love with Lauren, equally intelligent and a HUNK! They are having a wonderful time being back in civilization, so that they can have all the sex that they want. My, do they want a lot of sex! They have graphic, kinky, erotic and elaborate sex that they couldn–t have on the dig because there were too many people around them. I felt orgasmic just reading about their sex. Even better, they loved only each other. The many secondary characters help the plot move seamlessly along. The mystery began early in the story and continued on throughout the plot as the adventure continued. I kept thinking that I knew what was going to happen, but Ms. Willows was too good for me and did not allow me to figure out the mystery until the book’s end. Brava, Ms. Willows, you have given us another wonderful read!~Marcy Arbitman, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

FIVE ANGELS! Don’t be fooled into thinking a book about an archeology adventure or mystery will be boring or tame; this is an erotic story! Lauren and Sebastian have sex in every location, position, and opportunity they find. The couple is very creative and this is a sensual tale that will leave you needing a way to cool off as you read! But the book has more than hot sex to appeal to the reader. This is a very imaginative story that includes shape shifters, possession, and an evil plot to steal souls from someone on the expedition. Lauren and Sebastian sense that something is wrong from the beginning but they are not sure who can be trusted and who are the bad guys however, people other than them depend on the funding for their main project so they feel compelled to go and insure the continuation of their life’s work. I loved the characters of Lauren and Sebastian and hope they will appear in the sequel that is the story of two of the secondary characters from this tale. I can’t wait to read book two, titled Into the Night! Ms. Willow’s imagination is so creative and fun that I will watch for other works by her and read them. I hope she plans to write more books for this series! ~Stephanie B, Fallen Angel Reviews

This novel has it all…a loving relationship between the married characters, deceit, betrayal, long held ancient secrets, poisoned darts and deadly villains. The multiple secondary characters give great depth to the piece, helping to keep the plot interesting and suspenseful. As the story progressed, I kept wondering what the Prentices were up to and why, but Ms. Willows well written story kept me guessing until the very end. Good work! ~Pam, My Book Cravings

Oh my! Grab a fan and your man before commencing to read Into The Lair. This is one hot story. I really loved reading about a long-time married couple who were still lusting for each other as much as when they were first wed. The devotion between the two made the novel special. Solid pacing, interesting characters, and an original plot topped it off. If you enjoy erotic romance with a splash of m/f/m interaction, you’ll take pleasure in Into the Lair. ~Chris, Joyfully Reviewed

FOUR STARS! A young couple is swept into a world of danger and betrayal in this creative and entertaining story. Their chemistry is explosive, and the steamy erotic encounters are hotter than the jungle setting. The secondary characters are all well developed and add to the mystery to a plot that will keep you hooked. ~Gail Pruszkowski, Romantic Times

EXCERPT:

Prologue

He watched from the shadows that dusk cast over the land. The cool San Diego night beckoned people to the Prentice Museum in droves. What better way to camouflage one’s actions than in a crowd? The innocent and unwary wound their cars up the hill as the sun set; last rays glinting off the windshields made them look like diamonds.

Clouds in the distance hovered over the Pacific Ocean, teasing with the hint of thunderstorms that had yet to materialize. All they’d gotten during the day was sweltering August heat and humidity. Mother Nature had made up for it with a colorful display of purples, golds, and pinks against the clouds and the kiss of a cool breeze. It didn’t matter. The atmosphere was heavy with desperation and foreboding. He would have felt it in any weather.

His nostrils flared as they arrived. The perfect couple — young, intelligent, beautiful…irresistible. Tonight would be the night they’d be marked. He could smell the hunt hovering in the air. It was woven with the scent of the woman’s pussy, punctuated by the testosterone cloud hovering around the man.

He stroked the erection thrusting up insistently before him….and wanted them…wanted his life back. And they were going to help him achieve all of that.

This time, no mistakes.

Chapter One

Chillbumps dotted Lauren Garner’s skin. Her stomach tightened with the creepy-crawly feeling someone was watching her. She’d felt that way since she and Sebastian had arrived at the Prentice Museum. Which was ridiculous, because they were the guests of honor. Naturally, all attention was on them.

But this…this was different. More like something was watching, not someone.

She clutched her husband’s strong forearm and stretched to her tiptoes. He smiled when her breath caressed his ear.

“I need to go to the ladies room,” she whispered. “Come with me…please.”

He gave her a single nod and lifted his champagne flute to the ladies surrounding them. “If you’d all excuse us for just a minute…” He set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter, cupped Lauren’s elbow, and steered her toward the restrooms down the far corridor beyond their exhibit.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when they’d gotten out of earshot.

“I feel ‘off.’ Nervous. On edge. Like I’m being watched.”

“Of course you’re being watched.” His voice deepened, falling over her like a sensuous caress. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the room. Every man wants you. Every woman wants to be you.”

She turned into him and ran her fingers beneath his tuxedo jacket, felt the hard chest beneath. “Only because those women want you.”

“Mmmm…” He twisted open the door to the handicapped restroom and gently pushed her forward, locking it behind them. “Do you know how much I want to fuck you right now? I’ve had a killer of a hard-on since we walked into the place.”

“Are you sure that’s not just nervous energy?”

He grabbed her hand and placed it on his cock. “Does that feel like nervous energy to you?”

Her pussy clenched with want. Moisture soaked the cotton liner in her pantyhose. That’s what she needed — him. Now!

“I can’t let you go back out there like that, now can I?” Hiking up her silky black dress, she grabbed the waistband and peeled her pantyhose down and off one leg.

Sebastian didn’t hesitate. One hand freed his erection while the other hoisted her bare leg up and around his waist. Lauren braced herself against the sink, gasping when he impaled her. His fucking was raw, hard, fast…and just what she needed. All she could do was hold onto his massive shoulders for dear life.

He reached between them and pushed her clit against his cock. Each stroke raked over it, pulling her tighter and tighter. Orgasm rolled over her sweetly, relaxing those tense muscles, scattering her unease. He seated himself on a hard thrust and grunted with his release. They stood there for long minutes, draped around each other in the wonder of the moment.

“We really need to get back out there.” He squeezed her ass and carefully slid free.

Lauren laughed to herself. The last thing they needed was a semen stain on his dark tux or her dress.

Using wet paper towels, they cleaned up quickly.

“You okay now?” he asked as he tucked in and zipped up.

Lauren smiled and kissed his chin. “More than okay. It was just what I needed. You go on. I need to pee.”

He captured her lips in a kiss, then winked, wiped her lipstick off his mouth, and left.

Lauren locked the door behind him, laughing at that earlier creepy feeling. She was on edge, that was all. Nothing like an orgasm to settle a girl’s nerves.

She took care of her personal needs and fixed her makeup. The biggest night of their lives and she was in the bathroom having sex.

“Mom would be so proud.”

She might look killer-hot, but she felt like a freaking Barbie doll. And these pantyhose were smothering her.

“Screw it.” She peeled them off and tossed them into the trash. Of course, that also meant she was now bare-bottomed.

Wearing panties might have helped. It was one of her greatest conundrums. Panties with pantyhose? She’d always considered it redundant. If they were pantyhose, why wear panties? Out of all the things she’d ever discussed with girlfriends, the topic had never come up. Sebastian was worthless on the subject. The fewer clothes she had on, the better he liked it.

“Like anyone will notice.” The focus was supposed to be on the artifacts on display.

Clutching her tiny purse, she swung open the door and left. At the end of the corridor, she felt the first trickle make its way down her thigh. She did an abrupt about-face back to the ladies room to sop up the remnants.

Sebastian’s knowing smirk greeted her when she finally returned to the exhibit wing. He lifted his glass in a private toast. Lauren snagged a crystal champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter and followed suit, giving him a knowing smile of her own.

Content once more, Lauren sipped her golden champagne. It was light with a hint of sweet, not too dry; the perfect complement to what she hoped would be a perfect event.

She twirled the glass between thumb and forefinger and wandered toward her favorite of all the Maya artifacts she and Sebastian had unearthed in the last two years. Restored and on display in all its glory, the blue-green jade idol gleamed as it had when first carved. The phallus was an eye-popping ten inches long and three inches in circumference, jutting out from the proud figurine that bore it — the envy of every woman at the exhibit.

The artist had shown intricate attention to detail, using the stone to its full potential. Veins of gold naturally running through it became veins of the idol’s penis. There was a slit in the glans with precum at the tip and no hint of foreskin, which made it extra unique considering its age. The scrotum was wrinkled and full, close to the body. Fingernails and toenails were present, musculature well defined, as were eyes, ears, nose, and the sloped Maya forehead prevalent for the culture at that time. The artist had even managed to capture the male’s grimace of pre-orgasmic pleasure.

The idol was made for grasping. Inspection had revealed ancient fingerprints over it, which they’d meticulously documented before cleaning. Lauren could appreciate its being well used. Once in the place it was intended, the idol looked guaranteed to provide extreme pleasure. The hilt would nudge a woman in just the right spot. A skilled lover could manipulate it to perfection, or the lady could ride the sucker like a horny cowgirl and get herself off easily.

Lauren would be lying if she’d said she wasn’t tempted to try it out — no matter how many thousands of years old it was. At those times when she thought no other members of her archaeological team were looking, she’d unwrap the statue from its protective nesting of straw and caress the bulbous head, stroke the massive erection…and wonder.

She drew in another sip and studied the gathering. Clumps of people crowded around the Maya artifacts, oohing and ahhing over it all. There was still a wealth of material trapped beneath the Yucatán soil. The problem was finding enough capital to continue the dig, and then getting back to the site before poachers took it all. Hence the exhibit of what they’d found to date.

It’d come as a surprise to them that funding was an issue. Until now the Braden Institute had been known and revered for its deep, never-ending pockets. To discover otherwise was a bit…unsettling. When the digging season ended in the Yucatán, she and Sebastian were informed there would be a showing of their discoveries to date. That was six months ago, and they’d been working nonstop in preparation for it since then. At some point money was mentioned, and the exhibit became a fund-raiser while the rest of their team waited, bags packed and ready, to return to the site and continue. And the clock was ticking. She and Sebastian felt more pressure than ever. Their dig crew was depending on them.

Considering the crowd milling about, Lauren had to admit the exhibit seemed a rousing success. Barry Page darted through the guests like a cartoon ferret OD’d on espresso.

She bit back a laugh. Barry did look like a cartoon ferret — dark hair slicked back, pointed nose leading the way, bug eyes never still as they searched out the next target. No one pursued funding for the Braden Institute more aggressively than Barry. But with each day that passed, he became a bigger pain in the ass. If she heard him say, “It takes money to make money,” one more time, she’d pop his head off.

From the beginning, she’d been more than reluctant to do this fund-raiser. Barry’s aggressive pursuit of contributions made her more so. She didn’t like crowds, and she didn’t like being the center of attention. Plus, the mere thought of leaving the quiet haven of field work made her nervous. She hadn’t worn a dress, much less high heels, since she married Sebastian five years before. And dressing up for Sebastian meant Dockers and a pullover shirt.

But, man oh man, look at him tonight.

In his black tux he looked good enough to eat. Lauren wasn’t sure who got more attention — Sebastian or her well-endowed jade friend. Considering some of the obvious touching going on, Lauren wondered if Sebastian shouldn’t have been sealed in security glass like the artifacts. Other than their dash to the restrooms, neither of them had spent a second alone since they walked into the exhibit wing. Everyone wanted to press hands with the couple who’d made the discovery — archaeology’s new rising stars.

Lauren wasn’t sure how true that was, but it was definitely a huge career boost for them. And any notoriety that helped them continue their work was fine with her. Obviously, the institute felt that way as well. Once word got out about the artifacts, the Prentice Museum offered to display them and provide the level of security necessary to protect them during their stay. Liam Prentice had spared no expense. Why he didn’t just donate the money to the dig and leave it at that…

She assumed the man had an agenda of his own. Didn’t everyone? Considering tonight’s success, the Prentices would be the talk of the town for months to come, if not years. That talk would generate more visitors to the museum. More visitors meant more money, more investors for him. She couldn’t fault a person for that; after all, wasn’t that exactly what she and Sebastian were doing tonight?

Lauren took another sip of champagne, smiling as Sebastian laughed at something a matronly redhead half his height and twice his width said. Damn, he was handsome. His skin was golden from years in the Yucatán sun. All except his cute, milk white ass. His dark brown hair was trimmed neatly for a change, rather than straggly from one of her field haircuts. Those deep brown eyes sparkled, like he was having the time of his life. No one would guess he was as nervous as she was about all this.

His long fingers cradled the crystal flute. Every so often he’d absentmindedly brush his thumb along the side, reminding her of how often they played against her breast. Need curled into her belly at the thought. After ten years they were still going strong. She prayed they never grew tired of each other.

Sebastian’s gaze shifted her way. His smile deepened into that I’m-going-to-fuck-you-until-we-both-collapse look. She swore he could will her clothes to drop with that hot glance. And they’d just had a quickie!

Wait ’til he finds out I’m bare-bottomed.

Would he scold her for being a “naughty girl” and promise a spanking later? Haul her off to the first available storage closet and give her some more quick and thorough loving? Either and both sounded good to her.

“I can remember when my wife used to watch me with hungry eyes.”

Lauren glanced up at the man beside her. She’d been so absorbed in thought she hadn’t noticed his approach, but she had no trouble recognizing Liam Prentice. Those sky blue eyes alone made him memorable. Silver blended nicely with the blond, making his hair look like precious metals had been spun there. From what she’d heard, he had the personality to back up those distinguished looks, too. He and his wife, Viola, were charming, wealthy, connected, and damned good-looking. Lauren hoped she and Sebastian were as lucky when they hit their fifties.

“Mr. Prentice, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Lauren Garner.” She offered her hand to him.

He didn’t hesitate. A handshake said a lot about a person. His wasn’t a condescending girly squeeze, or a bone crusher. He shook her hand like a colleague, someone he respected.

“Your reputation and that of your husband’s precedes you, Mrs. Garner. Everyone is talking about you.” His gaze never left hers. She wasn’t sure if she appreciated his directness, or found his steady perusal unnerving.

“Lauren…please…and thank you. It’s wonderful to know our work means so much to others.”

“Probably more than you realize. Viola and I had the chance to tour the exhibit privately this afternoon. What amazing discoveries. We’re in awe of your accomplishment.”

Coming from a man of his caliber and deeds, it was quite a compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Prentice. I’m honored you feel that way. I don’t know what to say.”

“First names with us as well, Lauren. Viola and I aren’t much on pretense. We leave the snobbish displays to some of our so-called friends.”

Lauren fanned her fingers at the base of her throat and laughed.

Liam leaned closer, humor dancing in his eyes. “If they only knew what we really thought of them.”

“Somehow I suspect you don’t waste a lot of time with them, though.” And he most probably let others do his dirty work if he was displeased. He struck her as the type of man who would smile in your face, then order your head on a platter behind your back.

“Very perceptive, Lauren.” He tapped her shoulder. “I knew I’d like you the instant I saw you across the crowded room.”

Lauren sipped her champagne as she fought the urge to give him a playful push. “Now, Liam, that almost sounds like the beginning of a very bad pick-up line.”

He tossed back a contagious laugh. “It really does. I’m so sorry. I’ve been watching your and Sebastian’s work for so long, I feel like I know you.”

Lauren was at a loss for words. She and Sebastian knew who the Prentices were — only a hermit living in a time warp wouldn’t — but they hadn’t thought much about the couple until this exhibit.

“Now you’re going to think Viola and I are stalkers.” His eyebrows scrunched together with what looked like regret. “Please don’t. We’ve continued to follow archaeological discoveries after we left the field, even built this museum to help display them. We certainly can’t begin to rival what the Braden Institute offers, but we do like to help fund those few scientists we find to be extraordinary — like you and Sebastian.”

Was he saying what she thought? That he was ready to fund their dig? She forced herself to retain some level of professional demeanor and not squeal…or get too far ahead of herself.

“Again you have me at a loss for words.”

“Then I’d say it’s the perfect time for you to tell me firsthand about your discoveries, starting with this intriguing little statue behind you. Although calling it little is definitely a misnomer.”

Lauren felt her cheeks heat. Her comfort level nosedived.

“I’m sorry. I did it again.” He cupped her elbow, gave it a quick squeeze, then swept his arm out. “Come meet Viola. Looks like she’s already waylaid your husband. It’s the perfect time.”

Lauren glanced in Sebastian’s direction. Viola Prentice had his attention, every word and action monitored by the throng growing around them. She matched Liam in looks, though hair dye most probably hid her gray. Both were fit and trim. Her calves looked like she was used to walking, well-defined with no hint of fat. Lauren couldn’t tell if her legs were really suntanned, or if that was merely the color of her pantyhose. In either event, it was too dark a color and the one thing about her that was unbecoming.

She wore a black dress like every other female there — understated elegance in the silk fabric that hugged her slender curves. An omega necklace gleamed around her throat, matching bracelets flashed around her wrists from under her long sleeves. More gold shone from her earlobes. She wore the jewelry like it was an extension of herself, like a queen. It was hard not to compare herself to the older woman. Sebastian’s smile her way told her she measured up just fine.

“Ah, yes, more hungry eyes,” Liam said with a laugh. “If only to be twenty years younger…”

She smiled up at him. “And know what you know now?”

“Exactly.” He added a nod and lifted his hand to his wife. “Viola, dear, quit hogging our good-looking friend and let the Garners give us a detailed tour of everything.”

Viola turned a sultry smile Liam’s way.

“Talk about hungry eyes,” Lauren muttered to him.

“Indeed.” Liam beamed. “Maybe your and Sebastian’s influence is rubbing off on us. One can only hope.”

* * * * *

Damn, Lauren was killer hot tonight in her little black dress and come-fuck-me black heels. Their quickie in the restroom hadn’t kept his erection away long. All he had to do was glance her way, think of those high-heeled legs tossed over his shoulders, and he was hard again. He couldn’t wait to leave this agonizing event and go home.

Though he tried to hide it, Sebastian had never felt more out of his element. He smiled, shook hands, engaged in mindless chit-chat…which he discovered was fairly easy if you could get the other person to talk about themselves. All he had to do then was smile or laugh or nod at intervals, answer a few questions.

While guests crowded him with mindless chatter, Sebastian focused on Lauren’s collarbones. On how her skin would taste when he’d trace his tongue over them. On how she’d sigh with pleasure and stretch her tight body against him. On the brush of her floaty hem against shapely legs. He couldn’t wait to peel her naked and feel her quiver beneath his touch. Couldn’t wait to see her surprise, hear her laughter, when she saw the present he’d had made especially for her.

There wasn’t a woman in the room who compared to Lauren, and Sebastian had seen every one of them close up…with the exception of Viola Prentice.

The Prentices were their benefactors for this event, though they’d never met. The institute arranged everything, with specific instructions that the Garners were to extensively woo them in the hope they’d help fund the dig. Sebastian and Lauren weren’t stupid. They knew a good thing when they saw it, but neither of them appreciated the added pressure. Pressure made more intense when the Prentices weren’t here when the Garners arrived.

Barry Page had nearly had a coronary over their absence. His heaved sigh of relief was a little too obvious when the Prentices made a quiet entrance thirty minutes later. They’d paused for a second, scanning the gathering. Body language said a lot about them, how close the two were — his arm around her back, her standing in the cove of his body. Sebastian liked to see that in a couple who’d been married a long time. It was like a glimpse of what he hoped he and Lauren would have in twenty-five years — still crazy in love, still so hot for one another the kindling could be used to start a fire.

A smile had sent the Prentices on separate paths, weaving into the crowd after they’d snagged champagne flutes from a passing waiter. Barry had wasted no time nailing Sebastian with a look that clearly told him to corner Liam Prentice. Sebastian promptly ignored it.

Barry was great at his job, but there was a time and place, and attacking Prentice the second he walked in the door wasn’t it. Sebastian had too much professional respect for Prentice to do that. After all, Prentice had paid for this event, donated a portion of his museum with extra security, even added the draw of champagne, open bar, and heavy hors d’oeuvres buffet on the patio. He deserved Sebastian’s and Lauren’s thanks, not to be hit up for more money. Sebastian planned to do just that once Lauren finished her quiet perusal of her Mr. Happy idol…and Sebastian could politely slip away from the redhead’s lengthy story of a bout with Montezuma’s Revenge on her one trip to Cabo San Lucas twenty years ago. His brain shut down amid her graphic descriptions of all the barfing and pooping she’d done. His smile frozen in place, all Sebastian could do was nod while he prayed for an opening to excuse himself.

Then he saw Liam Prentice approach Lauren. The gaggle of people perpetually gathered around Sebastian parted at the same time. The redhead’s rambling dissertation screeched to a halt the second Viola Prentice stepped forward, her smile open and welcoming. She was a striking woman, gracious in the face of the power she possessed yet didn’t flaunt here.

She slipped warm fingers into his, grasping them firmly as she edged closer. “The pleasure is mine. Please…first names. It makes life so much more pleasant. I read a story once about an elderly woman named Mary Grant. She was asked if there was anything she missed most, having reached ninety-five years. She responded that no one ever called her by her first name anymore…always ‘Mrs. Grant.’ I never want to be in that position or put others in it.”

Sebastian could appreciate that, though he’d never considered it before. “Then first names it is, Viola.” They dropped hands on a simultaneous nod. “My wife and I would like to express our sincere thanks for all you and your husband have done.”

“We should be thanking you.” She motioned to the displays like Vanna White turning letters. “This is a breathtaking find. Makes me crave to go out in the field for one last hurrah.”

“From what I’ve heard, you and your husband were quite a force thirty years ago, amassing a nice resume of spectacular finds.” Then they’d retired to the estate those discoveries, and an immense inheritance, had built.

“Viola, dear, quit hogging our good-looking friend and let the Garners give us a detailed tour of everything,” Liam called out, interrupting her from any reply she might have made.

“An excellent idea.” She gave her husband a sultry smile, then turned to Sebastian. “Shall we?”

“It would be my honor.” Sebastian offered his arm to escort her. Viola wasted no time looping her hand through it.

“You and your wife make a striking couple,” she said as they strolled in that direction.

He gave a soft laugh. “Thank you. I was thinking the same thing of you and Liam when you walked in.”

Laughter bubbled out of her. “Oh, goodness…it’s nice to know we’ve still got it after all these years. I imagine Lauren was excited for the chance to dress up for a change.”

Her comment nearly brought him to a halt. Viola must have noticed he faltered because she put her other hand over his arm and squeezed.

“Look how breathtaking she is.” Her gaze slowly swept over Lauren, appraising, comparing, judging. If Viola had been a man, Sebastian would have called it lecherous. “She’s probably thinking the same about you, judging from the lust in her eyes. Most men bitch about the monkey suit, but there isn’t a man alive who doesn’t look devastating in a tux. Fires up those juices. Don’t get me wrong…being able to work together day in and day out is wonderful. But being away from the grind, the grit of field work… Well, that sort of thing grows old after awhile, and we women do like a bit…more.”

Sebastian’s feel-good disappeared. Is that what Lauren wanted…more? For the first time in their ten-year history, he wondered if he’d somehow let her down. She never said. In fact, she’d seemed happy to be digging for past civilizations…didn’t she?

He took a mental step back. What had he given her? Other than their professional accolades, they had nothing to speak of. Most of the money they earned was tucked away in savings and investments, hoarded for a rainy day. They had a small apartment that was more for storage than for living. They lived out of suitcases. Correction…backpacks, duffel bags, and crates. He’d had to rent the tux, which was the norm for most men. But Lauren didn’t own pantyhose, much less a nice dress and heels, and she hadn’t been too thrilled with the idea of having to shop for those items.

Sebastian smiled her way. Seeing her killer hot took his breath away. Her long brown hair drifted down her back, gold highlights catching the light. He wanted to comb his fingers through it over and over again, mine it for gold while his cock bored a tunnel into her cunt. Sparkly rhinestones dangled from her ears, begging him to nibble. He found himself wishing he had given her diamonds, instead of a canvas tent in a sweaty jungle.

Odd how Viola’s innocent comment could knock him off-kilter and spark doubt. Now that the seed was planted…

He extended his hand to Liam Prentice as they approached. “Sebastian Garner, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He kept his smile bright, hoping it would dissipate his unease.

“Definitely.” Viola extended her hand to Lauren. “I feel I know you so well through your work that I should hug you.”

“One can never have enough hugs,” Lauren said with a smile.

“My feeling exactly!” Viola tossed her arms around Lauren’s neck with no further warning.

Sebastian saw Lauren’s eyes widen with surprise. Clearly she wasn’t expecting Viola to carry through with such an exuberant embrace. All she could do was laugh with her and return the affection. As they parted, Lauren gasped and pressed her fingers against the curve of her neck.

“It’s okay…really.” Lauren glanced at her fingers. It was all Sebastian could do to not pull her hair aside to see the scratch for himself, especially when the smile she gave the other woman didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“See? No blood.” Lauren lifted her fingers to show them as if to back up her words. “If it’s visible, my hair should hide it. No harm, no worries.”

The glance she gave Sebastian begged him to not make a big deal out of it. Though he agreed, giving her a slight nod, he still didn’t like it.

“Still…” Viola unlatched the heavy gold bracelet and shoved it deep into Liam’s trouser pocket. “There…that’s that. Now,” she looped her arm through Lauren’s. “Tell us everything. I want to hear about every speck of dirt you brushed away to find these treasures.”

Liam touched his wife’s shoulder. “Not every speck, dear. I believe they’re ready to open the buffet.”

Viola cast a worried frown toward the double doors leading to the large glass-enclosed patio. “A quick tour then.” She flashed him a smile and turned Lauren toward the exhibits.

Liam gave him a palms-up shrug that said, “What can a guy do?”

Sebastian smiled with his nod, and they fell in step behind the women. Barry tracked every movement. Sebastian hoped to hell he kept his distance. He and Lauren needed this moment, and not for the potential money it would bring. They needed the break from the crowd, to be able to talk quietly about their discoveries and not the mindless garble they’d had to spew since they’d arrived.

Hands clasped behind him, he was content to let Lauren take over the tour. She had a sweet tone to her voice that could mesmerize howler monkeys, squalling children, hysterical females, and rampaging men…all at the same time. One-on-one, Lauren was excellent. She froze up when she had to give group presentations, though. Just the thought of standing behind a podium made her sweat. Teach, yes. Lecture, no.

They’d finished the circuit as the caterers were opening the doors to the patio. Sebastian hated the idea of going back into schmooze mode. Judging from Liam’s resigned sigh, he did, too.

“What’s the term? ‘Into the breach’?”

Viola giggled. “Is it such a burden to be polite?”

“Sometimes,” he said with an overdramatic sigh. “Especially when we’re having such a great talk.”

“Come on.” Viola looped her arm through Liam’s and tugged him toward the patio. “I’m sure we can worm a private table for the four of us from the Mother Hen.”

Sebastian tried his best to cover his laughter with a cough into his fist. It was impossible. The description of Barry was too accurate.

Liam smirked. “Has he made your life a living hell?”

Lauren squeezed her arm around Sebastian’s waist, silently reminding him of his manners. “He’s just doing his job,” she said.

He conceded the point with a nod. “And he does do it very well, no arguing there. But Viola and I know how annoying it can be to be yanked from your element and displayed like show dogs.”

“Well, we won’t lie about that,” Lauren said. “It’s been awkward and tense.”

“And only the beginning, from what we’ve been told,” Sebastian added. “If we want to continue doing what we love.”

Liam pulled in a deep breath through his nose. “What if I were to offer you a solution?”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. It sounded like Liam was saying he was going to fund for the dig. But it couldn’t be as easy as all that?

“What type of solution?”

Liam paused for a sip of champagne, then smacked his lips. “Viola and I are putting together a unique expedition. We’d like you two to join us. We feel you’d mesh well with us and the rest of the potential team.”

“And how would that be a solution?”

He was glad Lauren had asked that question. Sebastian had a dozen more running through his head.

Liam smiled. “Join us for the weekend, and you’ll see. Others will be there, too. Acquaintances of yours, I believe. No strings. I’ll lay out the plan then. You have nothing to lose, and at the very least, you would have had a couple of days to relax away from our friend before returning to your dig.”

Fortunately, Liam didn’t use the spiel “you have everything to gain.” If he had, Sebastian might have walked away.

“I’m…intrigued,” he finally said.

“Hopefully we can keep you that way.” Liam grinned and hoisted his glass. “Come on. Let’s eat before the herd decides to stampede.”

Sebastian tucked his arm around Lauren’s waist as they followed the older couple out. That’s when he realized…

“You’re not wearing your pantyhose,” he whispered against her ear.

A pink flush colored her cheeks. “I’m not wearing any panties either,” she whispered back.